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THE  LIFE 


07  THS 


EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE, 


^irst  Wiiit  of  '$Kpkm. 


p.   C.    HEADLET, 

AUTHOB  or  "WOVUC  OF  TBM  BIBU^"  "un  OF  LAFATnTB,"  "UR  OF  MABT 

qumx  or  SCOTS,"  '-.un  or  xosbuth,"  mki 


NEW   YORK: 

MILLER,  ORTON  &  CO.,  25  PARK  ROW. 

1857. 


t 

« 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  flfty-slx, 

BY  MILLEE,  ORTON  &  MULLIGAN, 

In  tba  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Northern  District  of  New  York. 


» 


PREFACE. 


In  offering  another  biography  of  Josephine  to  the 
admirers  of  that  brilliant  woman,  it  was  the  design  of 
both  the  Author  and  Publishers,  to  furnish  in  a  more 
popular  form  than  any  similar  work  in  print,  an  im- 
partial delineation  of  her  character,  and  a  general 
view  of  the  events  upon  the  field  of  history  across 
which  she  made  a  sad  and  brilliant  transit.  A  strictly 
original  work  is  not  claimed,  as  no  access  could  be 
had  to  manuscripts  of  the  departed,  or  to  the  archives 
of  France.  For  the  correspondence,  we  are  mainly 
indebted  to  Memes ;  and  have  referred  for  various 
interesting  facts,  to  Bourrienne,  Hazlitt,  Von  Rotteck, 
Scott,  Alison,  &c. 

Josephine,  for  the  times  in  which  she  lived,  was  a 
model  of  female  character ;  and  if  this  volume  shall 
make  the  study  of  it  more  general,  it  will  so  far  ex- 
tend the  admiration  of  the  pure  and  beautiful,  in 


n  PBBFACB. 

contrast  with  all  the  forms  of  corruption  humanity 
could  present  in  a  period  of  bloody  Revolution.  The 
Empress  was  a  greater  personage  than  Napoleon  in 
the  elements  of  moral  grandeur,  and  retained  her 
sovereignty  in  the  hea/rts  of  the  people,  while  he  ruled 
by  the  xmrivalled  splendor  of  his  genius 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Interest  of  Josephine's  History  —  Birth  and  Family  —  Early 
Years  —  First  Love  —  Singular  Prediction  —  Circumstances 
•which  cherished  Superstition — ^Attachment  broken  oflf — Be- 
comes acquainted  with  Beauharnais  —  Is  Married  — Visits 
the  Court  of  France — Makes  Provincial  Tours— The  Birth  of 
Eugene  and  Hortense — Domestic  Difficulties  —  Separation 
from  her  Husband  —  Retirement  —  Returns  to  Martinique — 
Residence  there — Her  Return  to  France — Incidents  of  th« 
Voyage — Is  united  to  her  Family — Origin  of  the  French  Rev- 
olution— Estates  General  convoked — Beauharnais  a  Member 
— Upon  its  Dissolution  again  enters  the  Army — His  Prin- 
ciples and  Humanity — Elected  to  the  National  Convention — 
Appointed  Commander  on  th«  German  Frontier — Despatch 
to  the  Convention, 11 


CHAPTER  IL 

Fall  of  the  Gironde — Beauharnais  arrested  and  imprisoned  — 
Letter  of  Josephine  to  her  Aunt — Friends  forsake  her — Cor- 
respondence with  Beauharnais  —  Levity  in  view  of  Death, 
and  Infidelity  during  the  Reign  of  Terror — Josephine's  Kind- 
ness to  the  Suffering  —  Examination  of  Beauharnais — Louis 
obtains  an  Interview  for  Beauharnais  with  his  Family — Jose- 
phine's Description  of  the  Scene — Parental  Influence — Beau- 
harnais betrayed  —  His  danger  increased  by  new  events  — 
Charge  of  Conspiracy  —  Eugene  and  Hortense  examined  — 
Josephine's  Account  of  the  Transaction  —  Again  visits  the 
Luxemboar^ — Scene*  in  Priaon — Letters — Robespierre,  V) 


Vni     •  CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER  III. 

PAQB 

Joaepliine  undeceived — Her  Arrest — Description  of  the  Scene 
— ^The  Prison -•  Hortense  and  Eugene  —  Josephine's  Compo- 
sure— Her  Kindness  to  the  Prisoners — Correspondence  with 
Beauharnais  renewed — Romantic  Story — Prison  Horrors — 
Beauharnais'  Interest  in  the  Young  Maniac  —  Returning 
Hope — Levity  of  Prisoners — Josephine's  Maternal  Character 
— Robespierre's  Policy — ^Tlie  Interposition  of  Friends — Jose- 
phine's Appeal  to  Sigas  —  Result — Meeting  of  Beauharnais 
and  Josephine — Crisis  in  Destiny — Last  Hours  of  Beauhar- 
nais— His  Execution — Relics  unexpectedly  received  by  Jose- 
phine— Her  Distress  and  Danger — Cheered  by  the  Prophecy 
of  Euphemia — Circumstances  of  Robespierre's  Death — Lib- 
eration of  Josephine — Interest  in  her  Children — Famine — 
Domestic  Suffering — Survey  of  the  Revolution — Beauharnais 
Family  toward  the  close  of  the  year  1795,        .  .         .     en 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Bonaparte  in  Paris  —  A  Glance  at  his  History  —  Personal  Ap- 
pearance— His  Exploit  the  13th  Vendemaire — Acquaintance 
with  Josephine — Her  views  of  a  Second  Marriage — Hesitates 
—  Napoleon  frequents  the  mansion  of  Madam  De  Beauhar- 
nais —  His  Conversational  Powers —  Marriage  —  Leaves  his 
Bride  to  join  the  Army — Brilliant  Success — Correspondence 
— Eugene's  Heroism — ^Letters  to  Josephine — Her  Residence 
at  Milan  —  Bonaparte's  Peculiarities,  and  Kindness  to  Jose- 
phine's Family — He  marches  to  Rastadt — Returns  to  Paris — 
Josephine  joins  him,  .  ,  .  .  .   103 


CHAPTER  V. 

Departure  of  Napoleon  for  Egypt — ^The  Parting  with  Josephine 
at  Toulon — She  retires  to  Plombieres — Accident — Sends  for 
Hortense  —  Excursion  Home — Rare  qualities  of  Josephine's 
Character — Consequences  of  her  confinement  at  Plombieres — 
Rumors  of  Napoleon's  Disasters  in  Egypt — Malmaison — Jose- 
phine watched  by  secret  Enemies  —  Charges  of  Infidelity 
transmitted  to  Napoleon — Her  Innocence  Vindicated — Ma- 
ternal Solicitude  and  Faithfulness — Napoleon's  Return  to 
France — Unfortunate  Mistake — His  Anger — The  Reconcilia- 
tion— France,  .....  •  •  .  .  12i< 


CONTENTS.  fH 

CHAPTER  VL 

Napoleon's  Design  —  Josephine's  Political  Views  —  Eugene — 
Convivial  Scenes — ^The  ISthBrumaire — Napoleon  First  Con- 
sul— ^The  Result — Murat's  Marriage — His  Treachery — Jose- 
phine's Meditation — Life  in  the  Tuilleries — Josephine — Bona- 
parte— He  ordera  the  Improvement  of  Malmaison — Escapes 
Assassination — Again  Crosses  the  Alps — Battle  of  Marengo 
— Relaxation  at  Malmaison — Josephine's  Benevolence — Con- 
spiracy and  the  Infernal  Machine — Marriage  of  Hortense — 
Character  of  Louis  Bonaparte — Person  and  Character  of  Hor- 
tense— Incidents  by  the  way — Important  Events — Peace  of 
Amiens — Gayety  of  the  People — Home  of  the  Consul — Re- 
newal of  Hostilities  with  England — Accident — Napoleon's 
View  of  Death,         .  .  .  .  .  .146 

CHAPTER  VIL 

Josephine  and  the  Bourbon  Conspirators — Duke  D'Enghien— 
His  Death  —  Josephine's  Grief,  and  her  Sympathy  for  the 
Conspirators  —  Bonaparte's  Movements  —  His  Ambition  — 
Views  of  the  Senate — Bonaparte  becomes  Emperor  of  France 
— Oath  administered  to  the  Legion  of  Honor — ^Emotions  of 
Josephine — Royal  Court — Excursions  to  Boulogne — The  Prin- 
cess of  Baden  —  Incidents — Josephine's  Forebodings — Reli- 
gious Marriage  of  Josephine — ^The  Coronation,        .  .201 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

France  and  Josephine  at  this  period  of  History — Rejoicings  of 
the  People  —  Important  Events — ^Tour  to  Milan  —  Napoleoa  < 
visits  Brienne — With  Josephine  Crosses  the  Alps — Plain  of 
Marengo — ^The  Coronation  at  Milan  —  Sojourn  there — News 
of  probable  Hostilities  —  Josephme  at  Genoa  —  The  rapid 
travel  to  Paris — Preparations  for  War — Josephine  Regent  of 
France — Letter  to  Cambaceres — Napoleon's  Victories — Arri- 
val of  a  Courier  —  Marriage  of  Eugene  —  Josephine's  Letter 
upon  the  expected  Marriage  of  her  Niece,  Stephanie  De  Beau- 
harnais — ^The  Royal  Family — Domestic  Arrangements — Bo- 
naparte's Habits  and  Illness — Hunting  Excursions — Hatred 
of  Bonaparte's  Relatives  toward  Josephine  —  Her  Kindness 
in  return— Napoleon's  Movements,     .  ,  .  .  2Jt 

A* 


iB  .  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PAS» 

A  new  phase  in  Josephine's  Destiny  —  Napoleon's  Love  —  His 
Desire  for  a  Successor — Rumor  that  the  Prince  Royal  of  Hol- 
land is  to  be  the  Heir-apparent  —  Character  of  the  Young 
Prince — His  Aflfection  for  Bonaparte — Alternate  Hope  and 
Fear — The  Prince  dies — Josephine's  Grief — Napoleon's  Re- 
turn from  Tilsit — ^Treatment  of  the  Empress — Journey  to  It- 
aly— Scenes  at  the  Capital — Napoleon — Josephine's  Diary — 
Spanish  Affairs  —  Incidents  of  the  Journey  —  The  Emperor 
meets  Alexander —  Results — Josephine  —  Return  to  Paris  — 
Bonaparte's  Designs — Preparations  for  a  Divorce — Decree  of 
the  Council — Consummation,  ....  274 


CHAPTER  X. 

Josephine's  Retirement  and  Sorrow — Her  Residence  at  Mal- 
maison  and  Navarre  —  Maria  Louisa  —  National  Joy  at  the 
Birth  of  Young  Napoleon — Congratulations  of  Josephine — 
Incidents  of  life  at  Navarre — Bonaparte's  Campaign  to  Rus- 
sia— His  Disasters — ^The  Fidelity  of  Josephine — Letters — Na- 
poleon abdicates  the  Throne  — Josephine  receives  the  Hom- 
age and  Sympathy  of  the  Great — Her  last  Illness  and  Death 
— Funeral — Summary  of  her  Character,        .  .  .   388 


LIFE  OF  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE. 


CHAPTER  L 

BITKSR8T   or  JOSBPHIXk'8    HISTOEY. BIRTH    AND   FAMILY. ^XAKLT    TKAKS. 

-    riEST    LOVE. SINGULAE    PEEDICTION. C1ECUM8TANCES  TCHICH   CHEB- 

I8HED   SUFERSTITIO.V. ATTACHMENT  BROKEN  OFF. BECOMES  ACQUAINTED 

WITH     BEACHAENAIS. IS    MARRIED. — VISITS    THE    COUET   OF    FEANCE. — 

MAKES    PROVINCIAL   TOURS. THE    BIETH    OF   EUGENE   AND     HORTENSE.^ 

DOMESTIC     DIFFICULTIES. SEPARATION     FROM     HEE     HUSBAND. RETIRB- 

MENT. RETl'RNS   TO  MARTINIQUE. EESIDENCE  THEEE. HEE  EETUEN  TO 

FEANCE. INCIDENTS     OF    THE    TOTAGE. IS    UNITED  TO   HEE   FAMILY.— 

ORIGIN   OF   THE    FRENCH    EEVOLUTION. ESTATES  GENEEAL   CONVOKED.— 

BKAUHARNAIS    A     MEMBEE. UPON     ITS  DISSOLUTION    AGAIN    ENTEE3    THK 

ARMY. HIS   PEINCIPLES   AND    HUM.KNITY. ELECTED     TO    THE    NATIONAL 

CONVENTION. APPOINTED     COMMANDEE     ON     THE   QEEMAN    FEONTIEB.- « 

OKSFATCH   TO  TUX   CONVENTION. 

The  name  of  Josephine  is  invested  with  a  romantio 
and  mournful  interest.  From  the*  quiet  life  of  her 
island-home,  she  rose  to  the  s^jlendbr  of  royalty  which 
borrowed  lustre  from  her  virtues  ;  then,  heart-broken, 
found  retirement,  where,  with  a  meek  resignation  that 
contrasts  beautifully  with  the  untamed  ambition  of  the 
illustrious  exile  of  St,  Helena,  she  lived  till  her  death. 
Besides  she  is  identified  with  those  great  events  which 
mark  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  mighty  tide  bearing  the 
destiny  of  imivcrsal  humanity ;  revolutions  whose  oub- 


12  LIFE   OF   JOSEI'UINB. 

siding  swell  left  imperishable  characters  and  me- 
morials, like  the  diluvial  epochs  that  have  scarred  the 
continents  and  changed  the  ocean-bed.  These  strug- 
gles will  be  studied  with  increasing  interest  by  prince 
and  people,  the  monarch  and  the  sullen  serf  who  chafes 
against  his  heavy  chain  ;  till  man's  "inalienable  rights' 
are  wrung  from  the  unwilling  hand  of  despotism,  while 
rational  liberty,  sanctioned  and  guarded  by  religion, 
is  secured  to  the  awakening  nations. 

In  this  view,  Josephine  is  a  heroine  of  history,  alike 
interesting  to  the  contemplative' mind,  which  studies 
biography  for  the  entertainment  it  affords,  and  to  the 
Statesman  who  would  obtain  lessons  of  political  wis- 
dom, and  become  famihar  with  the  origin  and  progress 
of  revolutions. 

Josephine  was  born  on  the  island  of  Martinique,  the 
23d  day  of  June,  1763.  Mile.  Le  Normand,  who  is 
questionable  authority,  puts  the  date  of  her  birth  one 
day  later,  the  24th — memorable  for  the  official  transfer 
of  the  island  to  the  French  power.  Her  father,  M. 
Tasher,  in  early  life  joined  the  army,  and  was  pro- 
moted to  the  captaincy  in  a  regiment  of  cavalry.  This 
rank,  without  farther  evidence,  indicates  clearly  noble 
descent;  for  not  until  the  brilliant  innovations  upon 
ancient  custom  by  Napoleon,  were  officers  taken  with- 
out regard  to  lineage,  from  the  common  people.  He 
was  ordered  to  the  West  Indies  in  1758,  where,  retir- 
ing from  service,  he  settled  upon  the  estate  La  Pagerie. 
Yery  little  is  known  respecting  the  childhood  and 
youth  of  his  wife,  Mademoiselle  do  Sanois,  connected 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE,  Id 

with  a  respectable  family  who  came  from  a  southern 
province  of  France,  to  retrieve  the  reverses  of  fortune 
in  the  New  World.     She  married  M.  Tasher  in  1761. 

The  data  are  imperfect,  from  which  to  gather  a 
complete  biography  of  their  gifted  daughter ;  the  asso- 
ciations, and  the  moral  influences  which  attended  her 
juvenile  years,  giving  complexion  to  her  character,  and 
shaping  her  destiny,  are  comparatively  unknown. 

She  alludes  to  the  companionship  of  Mai'ia,  a  foster- 
sister,  or,  as  it  is  affirmed  by  some  writers,  an  elder 
daughter  of  M.  Tasher,  a  contemplative  and  beautiful 
girl.  In  the  enjoyment  of  this  intimacy,  surrounded 
by  an  atmosphere  of  the  finest  temperature,  and  with 
the  solemn  ocean  spread  at  her  feet,  she  rapidly  de- 
veloped both  her  intellectual  and  physical  powers. 
Kind  to  all,  especially  to  the  slaves  of  the  plantation, 
she  was  admired  and  caressed ;  careless-hearted  as  the 
gazelle,  she  danced  away  the  hours  beneath  a  sky  that 
seemed  to  laugh  in  her  joyous  face.  She  had  a  passion 
for  music,  and  would  wander  away  to  the  sea-shore  or 
a  forest  solitude,  and  pour  her  melodies  like  a  wild-bird 
on  the  air.  Of  her  rich  tones,  Napoleon  said  in  after 
years,  "  The  first  applause  of  the  French  people  sound- 
ed to  my  ear  sweet  as  the  voice  of  Josephine." 

The  inhabitants  called  her  the  "  pretty  Creole,"  and 
her  genius  was  equal  to  her  charms.  Her  lively  im- 
agination and  quick  perceptions,  made  her  progress  in 
study  a  pleasant  amusement.  To  copy  her  own  lan- 
guage, "  I  did  not  like  the  restraint  of  my  clothing,  nor 
to.  bo  cramped  in  my  movements.    I  ran,  I  jumped, 


H  LIFK   OF   JOSEPHINE. 

and  danced,  from  morning  to  night.  Why  restrain 
the  wild  movements  of  my  childhood?  I  wanted  to 
do  no  hurt  to  those  from  whom  I  received  any  evi- 
dences  of  affection.  Nature  gave  me  a  great  facility 
for  anything  I  undertook.  Learning  to  read  and  wi'ite 
was  mere  pastime." 

She  passed  much  of  her  time  during  this  period  of 
early  youth  with  Madam  Renaudin,  an  amiable  aunt, 
whose  mansion  was  the  resort  of  many  cultivated  per- 
sons, among  the  colonial  inhabitants  of  the  islands. 
Her  native  refinement  was  brought  out  by  this  culture, 
and  she  bloomed  into  womanhood,  "  the  very  persona- 
tion of  grace."  Love  had  unconsciously  thrown  its 
spell  upon  her  blithesome  spirit.  There  was  living  on 
the  island  an  English  family,  who,  sharing  in  the  mis- 
fortunes of  Prince  Edward,  lost  their  possessions,  and 
self-exiled,  had  fixed  their  residence  near  the  home  of 
Josephine. 

Among  these  noble  fugitives  was  young  William, 
with  whom  she  rambled  and  played  from  their  child- 
hood. The  parents  of  each  had  seen  and  consented 
to  the  attachment,  and  Josephine  was  promised  in 
marriage,  when  mature  age  should  make  the  union 

proper.     Mr.  De  K was  called  unexpectedly  to 

England,  to  prove  his  heirship  to  the  estate  of  a  de- 
ceased lord,  and  was  accompanied  thither  by  his  only 
son.  This  was  a  sad  blow  for  Josephine.  With 
Maria,  who  was  inclined  to  melancholy,  and  loved  soli- 
tude, her  sprightly  and  social  nature  had  less  sympathy 
than  with  other  female  friends,  to  whona  she  would  re- 


LIFB   07  JOSIBPHINB.  16 

late  the  story  of  her  attachment,  beguiling  the  hours 
with  omens  and  day-dreams  concerning  her  destiny 
and  absent  lover.  One  day  she  met  a  mulatto  woman, 
who  was  generally  known  as  the  magician,  on  account 
of  her  skill  in  foretelling  coming  events.  She  bore  the 
name  of  Euphemia,  and  also  the  famihar  surname  of 
David.  The  following  is  Josephine's  account  of  the 
mterview : — 

"  The  old  sibyl,  on  beholding  me,  uttered  a  loud  ex- 
clamation, and  almost  by  force  seized  my  hand.  She 
appeared  to  be  under  the  greatest  agitation.  Amused 
at  these  absurdities,  as  I  thought  them,  I  allowed  her  to 
proceed,  saying,  'So  you  discover  something  extra- 
ordinary in  my  destiny  ?'  '  Yes.'  *  Is  happiness  or 
misfortune  to  be  my  lot?'  'Misfortune  :. ah,  stop! — 
and  happiness  too.'  '  You  take  care  not  to  commit 
yourself,  my  good  dame ;  your  oracles  are  not  the  most 
intelligible.'  '  I  am  not  permitted  to  render  them  more 
clear,'  said  the  woman,  raising  her  eyes  with  a  myste- 
rious expression  toward  heaven.  '  But  to  the  point,* 
replied  I,  for  my  curiosity  began  to  be  excited  ;  '  what 
read  you  concerning  me  in  futurity  ?'  '  What  do  I  see 
in  the  future  ?  You  will  not  believe  me  if  I  speak.' 
*  Yes,  indeed,  I  assure  you.  Come,  my  good  mother, 
what  am  I  to  fear  and  hope  ?'  '  On  your  head  be  it 
then ;  listen :  you  will  be  married  soon  ;  that  union 
will  not  be  happy ;  you  will  become  a  widow,  and 
then — then  you  will  be  Queen  of  France  !  Some 
happy  years  will  be  yours ;  but  you  will  die  in  a  hos- 
pital, amid  civil  commotionB.* 


16  LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE. 

"  On  concluding  these  words,"  continued  Josephine 
"  the  old  woman  burst  from  the  crowds  and  hurried 
away,  as  fast  as  her  limbs,  enfeebled  by  age,  would 
permit.  I  forbade  the  bystanders  to  molest  or  banter 
the  pretended  prophetess  on  this  ridiculous  prediction  ; 
and  took  occasion,  from  the  seeming  absurdity  of  the 
whole  proceeding,  to  caution  the  young  negresses  how 
they  gave  heed  to  such  matters.  Henceforth,  I  thought 
of  the  affair  only  to  laugh  at  it  with  my  relatives. 
But  afterward,  when  my  husband  had  perished  on  the 
scaflbld,  in  spite  of  my  better  judgment,  this  prediction 
forcibly  recurred  to  my  mind  after  a  lapse  of  years ; 
and  though  I  was  myself  then  in  prison,  the  transac- 
tion daily  assumed  a  less  improbable  character,  and  I 
ended  by  regarding  the  fulfilment  as  almost  a  matter 
of  course." 

The  circumstances  of  such  a  prediction  are  among 
the  authenticated  facts  in  her  history  :  yet  to  minds 
unaffected  with  superstitions  of  the  kind,  the  result  will 
appear  only  one  of  those  striking  coincidences  which 
sometimes  occur  in  the  lowest  species  of  this  prophetic 
legerdemain. 

Josephine  was  almost  necessarily  superstitious. 
From  the  dawn  of  consciousness,  she  was  under  the  in- 
fluence of  parental  faith  in  the  marvellous,  and  listened 
to  the  wild  tales  of  unearthly  scenes,  common  among 
the  negro  population,  till  her  imagination  was  excited 
with  the  mysteries  of  human  life ;  and  that  desire  to 
read  the  future,  more  or  less  active  in  every  mind,  be- 
came a  painful  solicitude,  that  not  unfrequently  made 


LnrK   OP  JOSEPHINE.  It 

her  sensitive  spirit  recoil  with  trembling  from  her  un- 
folding destiny.  This  was  no  blemish  upon  her  char- 
acter ;  for  under  similar  culture  the  Puritans  of  Eng- 
land and  America  became  monomaniacs  in  their  be- 
lief of  the  supernatural,  and  the  very  phenomena  of  na- 
ture, to  their  disordered  fancy,  blent  with  them  the 
gloom  and  the  glories  of  eternity. 

Thus  passed  the  years  to  this  lovely  maiden,  so  soon 
to  enter  upon  the  arena  of  French  revolutions,  and 
play  her  part  with  kings,  under  the  eye  of  startled 
Europe.  Among  flowers  and  birds — on  the  lawn  and 
by  the  sea-side — her  gentle  heart  unfolded  its  pure  affec- 
tions, and  sighed  over  visions  of  love  which  had  faded. 
Parental  opposition,  with  circumstances  unknown  to 
her,  interposed  a  hopeless  separation  between  her  and 

William  De  K ;  though  she  never  forgot  him  on 

whom  she  had  lavished  the  wealth  of  her  young  heart's 
devotion,  even  while  she  graced  a  throne,  and  won  the 
admiration  of  millions. 

But  new  events  now  engaged  her  thoughts,  and 
opened  before  her  the  career  of  greatness  and  of  trial. 
Yiscount  Alexander  de  Beauhamais,  who  held  estates 
in  Martinique  under  lease  to  M.  Eenaudin,  visited  the 
island  to  establish  his  claim  to  the  inheritance.  He, 
however,  had  some  time  before  come  to  the  New  Con- 
tinent, with  a  commission  in  the  French  army,  fired 
with  the  enthusiasm  for  liberty,  which  had  just  burst 
like  a  conflasration  from  the  bosom  of  the  American 
Colonies  upon  the  world. 

Through  Madam  Renaudin  he  became  acquainted 


i^  UFS   OF   jrOSEPHISB. 

with  the  M.  Tasher  family,  and  interested  in  Josfr- 
phine,  who  was  now  in  the  glory  of  her  youthful 
beauty.  That  influential  lady  had  fixed  her  choice 
upon  Beauharrtais  for  the  future  husband  of  her  ad- 
mired protege ;  and  though  the  design  met  with  bitter 
opposition  from  relatives,  this  obstacle  yielded  to  the 
unaffected  kindness  and  winning  manners  of  Jose- 
phine, and  the  marriage  took  place  soon  after  she  had 
passed  her  sixteenth  year.  Beauharnais,  though  sev- 
eral years  older,  was  young  in  appearance,  and  of 
commanding  figure.  During  their  visit  to  the  capital 
of  France,  she  was  flattered  by  the  nobility,  and  upon 
her  presentation  at  court,  received  the  most  marked 
attentions  from  Marie  Antoinette  ;  who  seemed  scarce- 
ly less  to  admire  the  accomplished  man  who  had  intro- 
duced the  fair  Creole  into  the  brilliant  circle  she  adorn- 
ed— and  called  him  the  beau  danseur  of  the  royal 
saloons. 

The  months  vanished  like  visions  to  the  bewildered 
Josephine,  in  the  splendid  scenes  crowding  the  gay 
circles  of  Paris  and  Versailles.  Weary  of  pleasure, 
she  accompanied  her  husband  in  provincial  tours,  visit- 
ing the  ancestral  domains  in  Brittany,  where  she  gave 
birth  to  Eugene,  an  only  son,  and  afterwards  the  dis- 
tinguished Viceroy  of  Italy. 

This  was  in  1780 ;  and  in  1783  Hortense  was  born, 
who  became  Queen  of  Hjlland.  Though  surrounded 
by  all  that  could  gratify  ambition  and  taste — the  em- 
bellishments of  art,  lavished  on  a  beautiful  residence — 
gorgeous  equipage  and  retinue — ^happy  in  the  domestic 


UFK  OF  josKPHnra.  !• 

relations,  and  beloved  bjalegion  of  friends,  a  midnight, 
cloud  was  gathering  upon  her  radiant  future.  Beau- 
hamais  had  caught  the  moral  infection  which  pervad- 
ed the  fashionable  world,  and  made  its  shining  exterior 
delusive  as  the  phosphorescent  light  that  sometimes 
plays  upon  the  surface  of  a  decaying  form,  from  which 
life  has  departed.  Josephine  suspected  his  fidelity, 
while  he  in  turn,  it  would  seem  from  the  partial  dis- 
closures made  of  this  unpleasant  and  obscure  transac- 
tion, doubted  the  sincerity  of  her  affection,  through  the 
influence  of  a  jealous  female  friend,  who  intimated  that 
the  heart  of  his  Creole  wife  was  given  unalterably  to 
another.  Whether  in  any  degree  she  gave  occasion 
for  suspicion  is  of  little  consequence,  where  the  guilt 
and  responsibility  of  what  followed  are  plainly  his 
own. 

His  notions  of  conjugal  fidelity  in  common  with  the 
courtiers  of  that  period,  and  those  that  prevailed  during 
the  reign  of  the  dissolute  Charles  of  England,  were  un- 
worthy the  man  who  won  the  hand  of  Josephine ;  and 
she  resented  the  insult  he  offered  to  her  truthful  and 
virtuous  spirit,  by  his  gallantries  toward  a  woman  she 
despised.  It  was  not  long,  when  the  language  of  affec- 
tion was  exchanged  for  accusation  and  keen  retort, 
before  that  knell  of  happiness,  separation,  passed  his 
lips. 

He  designed  to  interpose  a  final  barrier,  which  stung 
the  proud  heart  of  Josephine,  jind  with  weeping  she 
besought  him  to  avert  this  humiliating  blow.     It  ap- 
pears, however,  that  he  commenced  the  suit  for  a 
2 


W  LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINB, 

divorce,  which,  by  her  own  management  and  the  in- 
fluence of  friends,  was  defeated.  In  her  retirement  at 
this  time,  she  felt  all  that  heavy  gloom,  and  abandon 
of  sorrow,  wnich  fall  like  night  on  noonday,  upon  a 
heart  in  which  feeling  was  the  ruling  element,  moving 
ever  to  the  Cynosure  of  love,  and  whose  romantic 
dreams  seemed  already  in  their  fulfilment,  when  they 
dissolved  ih  tears.  Her  reading  harmonized  with  the 
hue  of  her  mournful  thoughts.  "  Night  Thoughts," 
and  "  Hervey's  Meditations,"  became  familiar  books, 
and  led  her  contemplations  to  the  vast  realities  of  a 
life  to  come — "  the  littleness  of  time,  and  the  greatness 
of  that  eternity  which  lies  beyond  it."  Whether  she 
cherished  any  deep  and  practical  religious  impressions, 
imparting  to  her  character  that  purest  element  of  hero- 
ism, Christian  fortitude,  is  not  known. 

Returning  to  her  beloved  Martinique,  she  found  re- 
pose among  the  friends  of  her  girlhood,  and  in  the 
quiet  beauty  of -her  sea-girdled  home.  Though  tran- 
quillity was  restored  to  outward  life,  yet  like  the  sun- 
ht  tide  she  sometimes  watched,  laying  its  undulations 
in  foam  at  her  feet,  while  the  sobbings  of  the  retiring 
storm  were  heard  in  the  distance ;  there  were  emotions 
which  had  no  rest  in  her  bosom,  while  memory  turned 
to  France,  and  the  tempest  which  had  driven  her  an 
exile  from  a  husband  and  son  to  whom  her  affections 
cluag. 

So  the  years  fled,  till  the  tidings  reached  Josephine, 
that .  Beauharnais  was  prepared  to  welcome  her  back 
with  renewed  kindness  and  devotion.    With  a  woman's 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHIITE.  21 

heart  slie  had  longed  for  an  honorable  restoration  to 
her  lost  position  as  wife  and  mother,  and  hear  again 
the  music  of  Eugene's  filial  voice,  and  she  prepared  to 
embark.  Long  afterwards,  she  gave  the  following 
simple  narration  of  her  voyage  before  the  ladies  of  her 
court  at  Navarre,  while  they  were  admiring  her  un- 
rivalled collection  of  jewels,  whose  richness  and  beauty 
attracted  the  attention  of  her  most  illustrious  visitors. 

"  Believe  me,  my  young  friends,  that  splendor  is  not 
to  be  envied  which  does  not  constitute  happiness.  I 
shall  doubtless  very  much  surprise  you,  by  saying  that 
the  gift  of  .1  pair  of  old  shoes  afforded  me  at  one  time 
greater  satisfaction  than  all  these  diamonds  now  before 
you  ever  did."  Here  her  youthful  auditors  could 
hardly  refrain  from  visibly  intimating  their  conjecture 
that  this  remark  was  intended  as  a  pleasantry.  Jose- 
phine's serious  air  assuring  them  of  their  mistake,  they 
began,  with  one  accord,  to  express  their  respectful  de- 
sire of  hearing  the  history  of  these  famous  shoes,  which, 
to  their  imaginations,  already  promised  greater  won- 
ders than  the  marvels  of  the  glass-slipper. 

"  Yes,  ladies,  it  is  certain,  that  of  all  the  presents  I 
ever  in  my  life  received,  the  one  which  gave  me  the 
greatest  pleasure  was  a  pair  of  old  shoes — and  these, 
too,  of  coarse  leather.  This  you  will  understand  in  the 
sequel. 

"Quitting  Martinico,  I  had  taken  a  passage  on  board 
a  ship,  where  we  were  treated  with  an  attention  which 
I  shall  never  forget.  Having  separated  from  my  first 
husband,  I  was  far  from  rich.    Obliged  to  return  to 


28  LIFE   OF  JOSBPHIXE. 

France  on  family  affairs,  the  passage  had  absorbed  the 
major  part  of  my  resources ;  and,  indeed,  not  without 
much  difficulty  had  I  been  able  to  provide  the  most 
indispensable  requisites  for  our  voyage.  Hortense, 
obliging  and  lively,  performing  with  much  agility  the 
dances  of  the  negroes,  and  singing  their  songs  with 
surprising  correctness,  greatly  amused  the  sailors,  who, 
from  being  her  constant  playfellows,  had  become  her 
favorite  society.  No  sooner  did  she  observe  me  to  be 
engaged,  than,  mounting  upon  deck,  and  there  the  ob- 
ject of  general  admiration,  she  repeated  all  her  little 
exercises  to  the  satisfaction  of  every  one.  An  old 
quarter- master  was  particularly  attached  to  the  child ; 
and  whenever  his  duties  permitted  him  a  moment's 
leisure,  he  devoted  the  interval  to  hi_,  young  friend, 
who,  in  turn,  doated  upon  the  old  man.  What  with 
running,  leaping,  and  dancing,  my  daughter's  slight 
shoes  were  fairly  worn  out.  Knowing  she  had  not 
another  pair,  and  fearing  I  would  forbid  her  going 
upon  deck  should  this  defect  in  her  attire  be  discovered, 
Hortense  carefully  concealed  the  disaster,  and  one  day 
I  experienced  the  distress  of  beholding  her  return, 
leaving  every  footmark  in  blood.  Fearing  some  ter- 
rible accident,  I  asked,  in  alTright,  if  she  was  hurt. 
'  No,  mamma !'  '  But  see,  the  blood  is  streaming  from 
your  feet.'  '  It  is  nothing,  I  assure  you.'  Upon  ex- 
amining how  matters  stood,  I  found  the  shoes  literally 
in  tatters,  and  her  feet  dreadfully  torn  by  a  nail.  We 
were  not  yet  more  than  half-way ;  and  before  reaching 
France  it  seemed  impossible  to  procure  another  pair 


LIfE   OF  JOSEPHnrE.  28 

of  shoes.  I  felt  quite  overcome  at  the  idea  of  the 
sorrow  my  poor  Hortense  would  suffer,  as  also  at  the 
danger  to  which  her  health  might  be  exposed,  by  con- 
finement in  my  miserable  little  cabin.  We  began  to 
weep  bitterly,  and  found  no  solace  in  our  grief  At 
this  moment  entered  our  good  friend  the  quarter-mas- 
ter, and,  with  honest  bluntness,  inquired  the  cause  of 
our  tears.  Hortense,  sobbing  all  the  while,  eagerly 
informed  him  that  she  would  no  more  get  upon  deck, 
for  her  shoes  were  worn,  and  mamma  had  no  othei"s  to 
give  her.  'Nonsense,'  said  the  worthy  seaman;  *is 
that  all  ?  I  have  an  old  pair  somewhere  in  my  chest. 
You,  madam,  can  cut  them  to  the  shape,  and  I'll  splice 
them  up  again  as  well  as  need  be.  Shiver  my  timbers  I 
on  board  ship  you  must  put  up  with  many  things ;  we 
are  neither  landsmen  nor  fops,  provided  we  have  the 
necessary — that's  the  most  principal.'  Without  giving 
time  for  a  reply,  away  hastened  the  kind  quarter-master 
in  search  of  his  old  shoes.  These  he  soon  after  brought 
to  us  with  a  triumphant  air,  and  they  were  received  by 
Hortense  with  demonstrations  of  the  most  lively  joy. 
To  work  we  set  with  all  zeal,  and  before  day  closed 
my  daughter  could  resume  her  delig.itful  duties  of  sup- 
plying the  evening's  diversion  to  the  crew.  I  again 
repeat,  never  was  a  present  received  with  greater 
thankfulness.  It  has  since  often  been  matter  of  self- 
reproach  that  I  did  not  particularly  inquire  into  the 
name  and  history  of  our  benefactor,  who  was  known 
on  board  only  as  Jacques.     It  would  have  been  grati- 


24  LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE. 

fying  to  me  to  have  done  something  for  him,  when 
afterwards,  means  were  in. my  power." 

Soon  after  her  arrival,  she  was  once  more  united  in 
"  sweet  concord,"  as  she  expressed  it,  to  M.  de  Beau- 
harnais.  The  gloomy  scenes  of  the  past  were  forgot- 
ten amid  the  sacred  joys  of  domestic  peace,  and  Jose- 
phine was  happy  as  she  had  been  miserable — devoting 
her  tact  and  energies  to  the  ruling  purpose  of  making 
her  mansion  the  attractive  centre  of  felicity  to  her  hus- 
band. But  her  suffering  country  was  preparing  a  cup 
of  deeper  woe,  although  it  could  not  press  to  her  trem- 
bling lips  the  poison  of  self-reproach. 

The  political  elements  which  had  long  been  in  agi- 
tation now  blackened  the  heavens  over  the  exasperated 
masses  of  France.  From  the  conquest  wars  of  Louis 
XIV.,  which  slaughtered  men  and  absorbed  money, 
followed  by  his  profusion,  and  the  magnificence  of  his 
court,  the  corruption  of  the  social  state,  and  the  bur- 
dens of  the  poor,  had  rapidly  increased ;  while  an  inso- 
lent nobility  and  dissolute  clergy  rioted  on  resources 
wrung  from  the  starving  millions.  Added  to  these 
facts,  the  American  contest  for  liberty  had  thrown 
new  ideas  of  right  and  oppression,  like  rockets  into 
a  magazine,  among  the  pillaged  and  discontented 
classes. 

Louis  XVL  was  now  on  the  throne,  whom  "  Fate 
had  selected  as  the  expiatory  victim  of  the  faults  of 
his  predecessors."  He  was  evidently  a  monarch  of 
benevolent  and  honest  heart,  but  neither  brilliant  nor 
heroic — ^irresolute,  and  without  independence  of  char- 


LIFE   OF   JOSKPHHTE.  26 

acter,  he  was  incapable  of   stilling  or  guiding  the 
storm. 

Beauharnais  sympathized  with  the  King,  while  he 
was  imbued  with  republican  principles  and  ready  to 
strike  for  reform.  Calonne,  the  minister  of  state, 
alarmed  at  the  current  deficit  in  the  finances,  which  in 
one  year  was  increased  one  hundred  and  twenty -five 
millions  of  livres,  represented  the  necessity  of  imme- 
diate and  radical  reform  to  the  King,  and  proposed  a 
convocation  of  the  Assembly  of  the  Notables ;  which 
occurred  in  the  spring  of  1787.  Though  little  was 
directly  accomplished,  it  prepared  the  way  for  convok- 
ing the  States  General,  which  the  people  throughout 
the  kingdom  now  demanded  in  language  that  must  be 
heard.  The  King  yielded,  and  the  depu|ies  of  the  three 
estates  assembled  at  Versailles,  27th  of  April,  1789. 
Beauharnais  now  appeared  boldly  in  the  revolution, 
before  whose  terrific  might  were  sunk  a  throne  and 
splendid  aristocracy,  while  the  fetters  of  despotism 
which  bore  the  rust  of  ages,  were  severed  like  threads 
of  gossamer.  In  this  "  Constitutional  Assembly,"  he 
took  his  seat  as  representative  for  the  nobles  of  Blois. 
He  was  conservative  in  his  views ;  opposed  to  those 
high  privileges  and  feudal  laws  which  excluded  the 
noblesse  from  the  progressive  movement  of  the  age,  he 
did  not  enter  fully  into  the  extreme  doctrines  of  democ- 
racy which  spread  like  a  contagion  among  the  rising 
masses.  He  made  speeches  and  introduced  reports  of 
conciliatory  yet  republican  tone — committing  himself 
fuUv  to  the  deepening  commotion  which  was  soon  to 


26  UFK   OF   JOSKPUIJfB. 

become  a  national  tragedy.  The  Assembly  was  dissolv- 
ed, September  20,  1791.     By  a  resolution  passed,  the 
members  were  ineligible  to  re-election  for  a  time,  and 
the  Viscount    Beauharnais  again  entered   the  army. 
He  was  associated  with  La  Fayette  after  the  events  of 
August    10th, -1792;  and  became  a  member   of  the 
third  or  National  Convention,  of  which  he  was  twice 
chosen  president.     A  Girondist  in  politics,  he  was  hu- 
mane in  action,  and  earnestly  desired  the  safety  of  the 
King,  whose  doom   he  might  delay,   but   could   not 
change ;  for  his  blood  must  be  poured  like  oil  on  the 
angry  billows   it  would  fail  to   calm.      While   Jose- 
phine's  husband  was   thus   engaged   in  reform,   her 
brother-in-law,  the  Marquis  de  Beauharnais,  was  equal- 
ly devoted  to  royalty,  and  a  major-general  in  the  army 
of  Conde.     But  in  vain  were  his  efforts — Louis  was 
beheaded,  and  the  sanguinary  struggle  went  forward. 
The  Viscount  was  appointed  commander-in-chief  of 
the  Rhine,  to  defend  the  German  frontier ;  for  Europe 
was  fairly   awake,   and    revolutionary    nobles   were 
obliged  to  serve  as  generals,  in  the  absence  of  ex- 
perienced leaders,  for  the  excited  and  desperate  throng, 
harnessed  to  this  car  of  Juggernaut,  which,  on  puritan 
ground,  was  but  the  temple  of  Liberty,  lifting  its  beau- 
tiful proportions  amid  a  rational  people,  who  with  a 
strong  and  steady  arm  had  beaten  back  the  invader  of 
human  rights. 

The  following  despatch  exhibits  the  generalship  and 
the  republiqanism  of  Beauharnais;   dropping  by  the 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPniNB.  2Y 

omission  of  the  ie  in  the  autograph,  every  indication 
of  titled  aristocracy. 


TO   THE  NATIONAL    CONVENTION 

Head-quarters,  Landau,  20th  July,  1193. 

"  I  have  to  inform  you,  citizen  'representatives,  that 
on  the  night  of  the  19th,  I  quitted  the  position  on  the 
heights  of  Menfield,  in  order  to  take  up  another  nearer 
Landau ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  attack  the  enemy 
encamped  in  the  vicinity  of  that  place.  I  directed  the 
army  to  advance  in  six  columns,  three  of  which  were 
destined  for  false  attacks.  The  principal  object  was 
to  obtain  possession  of  the  passes  of  Anweiller,  and 
the  heights  of  Frankweiller,  in  front  of  these  passes ; 
and  upon  which  the  enemy  lay  strongly  entrenched. 
Everything  succeeded  to  my  wish.  General  Arlan- 
des,  with  the  10th  regiment  of  infantry,  seized  the  pass 
of  Anweiller;  General  Meynier,  at  the  head  of  the 
67th,  occupied  at  the  same  instant  Alberweiller  and  the 
various  defiles  leading  therefrom  ;  the  vanguard,  led  on 
by  Generals  Landremont,  Loubat,  and  Delmas,  re- 
pulsed the  enemy  with  loss  from  the  heights  of  Frank- 
weiller, which  was  guarded  by  the  emigrants  and  the 
free  corps  of  Wurmser. 

"  General  Gilot,  making  a  sortie  with  three  thousand 
of  the  brave  garrison  of  Landau,  in  order  to  occupy 
the  enemy's  attention  at  a  point  where  ^Jiis  line  rested 
upon  a  wood,  proved  successful  in  that  quarter.  The 
false  attacks  directed  by  General  Ferriere,  and  those 
of  the  brigades  of  Generals  Lafarelle  and  Mequillet, 


28  UYE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

on  the  respective  points  of  the  hostile  line,  occasioned 
a  diversion  highly  favorable  to  the  main  attack,  by 
causing  the  evacuation  of  the  villages  of  Betheim, 
Kintelsheim,  and  Ottersheim.  Everywhere  the  enemies 
of  the  republic  have  been  driven  back  with  loss,  and 
have  left,  contrary  to  their  practice,  the  field  covered 
with  their  dead  and  wounded.  We  made  some  prison- 
ers, and  have  captured  several  redoubts,  without  can- 
non, it  is  true,  but  in  which  our  brave  soldiers  found 
bread,  great  coats,  and  supplies  of  various  kinds. 

"  This  action,  so  fortunate  in  its  results,  since  the 
troops  of  the  republic  have  successfully  effected  what 
I  had  proposed,  gives  anticipation  of  still  more  impor- 
tant advantages.  My  communications  with  the  army 
of  Moselle  have  meanwhile  been  established  by  the 
county  of  Deuxponts ;  and  the  courage  of  the  repub- 
licans composing  the  army  of  the  Rhine  promises  to 
become  more  and  more  worthy  of  national  confidence, 
by  fulfilling  those  engagements  which  that  army,  by  its 
situation  and  force,  and  through  the  interests  of  the 
important  city  now  besieged,  had  contracted  with  the 
country.  I  am  yet  unable  to  speak  in  detail  of  those 
individual  achievements  which  merit  the  attention  of 
the  representatives  of  the  people,  and  in  a  free  state 
call  for  an  expression  of  national  gratitude ;  but  my 
next  letter  will  contain  the  necessary  particulars. 

"  I  request  you  again  to  accept  from  all  the  repub- 
. leans  of  the  army  of  the  Rhine,  the  homage  of  fidelity 
to  the  republic,  one  and  indivisible,  of  their  attachment 


LOTS   OP  JOSEPHmE.  29 

to  the  const! lutioft,  and  of  their  gratitude  to  the  esti- 
mable legislature  to  whom  that  constitution  is  owing. 
"  The  Commander-in-chief 

"  of  the  Army  of  the  Rhine, 

"Alexander  Beauharnais." 

This  was  his  last  effort  for  his  country — a  new  chap- 
ter is  opened  in  the  bloody  annals  of  this  period,  ano 
in  the  history  of  the  noble  De  Beauharnais. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FALL    OF    THE     GIRONDE. BEAUHABNAIS     ARRESTED     AXD     IMPRISONED. — 

LBITEB  OF  JOSEPHINE  TO  HER  AUNT. FRIENDS  FORSAKE  HER. COR- 
RESPONDENCE   WITH    BEAUHARNAIS. LEVITY    IN   VIEW   OF    DEATH,    AND 

INFIDELITT   DURING   THE   REIGN  OF   TERROR. ^JOSEPHINe's   KINDNESS   TO 

THE    SUFFERING. EXAMINATION    OF    BEAUHARNAIS. LOUIS    OBTAINS   AN 

INTERVIEW  FOR  BEAUHARNAIS  WITH  HIS  FAMILY. JOSEPHINE's  DE- 
SCRIPTION OF  THE  SCENE. PARENTAL  INFLUENCE. BEAUHARNAIS  BE- 
TRAYED.  HIS   DANGER   INCREASED    BY   NEW    EVENTS. CHARGE   OF   CON 

BPIRACY. — EUGENE  AND    HORTENSE  EXAMINED. JOSEPHINE'S  ACCOUNT  OF 

THE  TRANSACTION. AGAIN  VISITS  THE  LUXEMBOURG. SCENES  IN  PRISON. 

—LETTERS. ROBESPIERRE. 

During  the  progress  of  the  Revolution,  a  formida- 
ble club  had  arisen,  called  Jacobins,  from  a  suppressed 
cloister  of  that  name,  in  which  the  deputies  from  Bre- 
tagne  that  composed  it,  held  their  sessions.  In  this 
society,  enthusiasm  at  first  well  directed,  passed  into 
reckless  ambition  and  lawless  passion — Marat,  Danton, 
and  Robespierre,  were  the  fit  leaders  of  this  wild  and 
reigning  faction.  Opposed  to  the  extreme  measures 
and  furious  zeal  of  the  Jacobins,  was  the  judicious, 
earnest  spirit  of  the  Girondists,  who  received  their  title 
from  the  department  of  Gironde,  which  had  furnished 
the  most  splen4id  minds  that  shone  in  their  debates, 
and  gave  direction  to  the  patriotic  ardor  of  freemen. 

But  after  the  execution  of  Louis,  no  barrier  was  left 
to  check  the  maddened  populace,  and  a  revolutionary 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE.  dl 

tribunal  was  established,  whose  decisions  were  final, 
while  the  property  of  the  doomed  was  absorbed  by  the 
state.  The  Jacobins,  no  longer  feared  the  political 
power  of  the  Gironde,  whose  moderation  they  hated, 
and  their  vengeance  fell  unsparingly  on  this  noble 
pirty,  which  in  May,  1793,  fell  in  the  embrace  of  the 
blind  and  many-armed  Briareus,  whose  locks  were 
knotted  with  the  best  blood  of  France,  and  whose 
strokes  slaughtered  alike  the  innocent  and  the  guilty. 
The  proscribed  sought  refuge  in  concealment  and 
flight.  But  Beauharnais,  conscious  of  integrity,  trust- 
ed with  mistaken  confidence  in  the  magnanimity  of 
desperate  men  who  now  raved  like  maniacs,  amid  the 
desolation  and  wailing  of  a  kingdom.  He  was  arrest- 
ed by  the  heartless  servitors  of  Robespierre,  and  hur- 
ried away  to  the  prisons  of  the  Luxembourg.  No  bet- 
ter  account  of  the  whole  transaction,  in  which  ruflian- 
ism  triumphed  over  virtue,  and  might  over  right,  with- 
out the  ground  of  accusation,  can  be  given  than  by 
quoting  the  following  extract  from  the  letter  of  Jose- 
phine to  her  aunt,  residing  in  the  vicinity  of  Fontaine- 
bleau : — 

JOSEPHINE    TO    MADAM    FANNY    BEAUHARNAIS. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  aunt,  compassionate — console — coun- 
sel me.  Alexander  is  arrested;  while  I  write  he  is 
led  away  to  the  Luxembourg ! 

"  Two  days  ago,  a  man  of  ill-omened  aspect  was 
seen   prowling  around  our    house.     Yesterday  about 


33  LIF£  OF  JOSBPHIXB. 

three  o'clock,  the  porter  was  interrogated  whether  citi- 
zen Beauharnais  had  returned  from  St.  Germain.  Now, 
you  know,  my  aunt,  that  my  husband  has  not  been  at 
St.  Germain  since  the  month  of  May.  You  were  of 
the  party,  and  may  recollect  that  Cubieres  read  to  us 
some  verses  on  the  pavilion  of  Luciennes,  The  same 
inquisitor  reappeared  in  the  evening,  accompanied  by 
an  old  man  of  huge  stature,  morose,  and  rude,  who  put 
several  questions  to  the  porter.  '  You  are  sure  it  is 
Beauharnais  the  Viscount  ?'  '  Ci-devant  vicounte,'  re- 
plied our  servant.  *  The  same  who  formerly  presided 
in  the  assembly  ?'  '  I  believe  so.'  '  And  who  is  a  gen- 
eral officer  ?'  *  The  same  sir,'  said  the  porter.  '  Sir  I' 
sharply  interrupted  the  inquirer,  and  addressing  his 
companion,  who  had  said  nothing,  '  you  see  the  cask 
always  smells  the  herring.'  Upon  this  they  disap- 
peared. 

"  To-day,  about  eight  in  the  morning,  I  was  told 
some  one  wished  to  speak  with  me.  This  was  a  young 
man,  of  gentle  and  decent  appearance :  he  carried  a 
leather  bag  in  which  were  several  pair  of  shoes.  *  Citi- 
zen,' said  the  man  to  me,  'I  understand  you  want 
socks  of  plum-gray  ?'  I  looked  at  my  woman,  Victo- 
rine,  who  was  present,  but  she  comprehended  as  little 
of  this  question  as  I  did.  The  young  man  seemed 
painfully  disconcerted ;  he  kept  turning  a  shoe  in  his 
hand,  and  fixed  upon  me  a  mournful  look.  At  length, 
approaching  close,  he  said  in  an  undertone,  '  I  have 
something  to  impart  to  you,  madam.'  His  voice,  his 
looks,  and  a  sigh  which  half  escaped  him,  caused  me 


LIFE  OP  JOSI^HINB.  JS 

some  emotion.     *  Explain  yourself/  I  replied  eagerly ; 

*  my  servant  is  faithful.'  '  Ah/  exclaimed  he,  as  if  in- 
voluntarily, '  my  life  is  at  stake  in  this  matter.'  1 
arose  instantly,  and  dismissed  Victorine  with  a  mes 
sage  to  call  my  husband. 

" '  Madam,'  said  the  young  tradesman,  when  we 
were  alone,  '  there  is  not  a  moment  to  lose,  if  you 
would  save  M.  de  Beauharnais.  The  revolutionary 
committee  last  night  passed  a  resolution  to  have  him 
an'ested,  and  at  this  very  moment  the  warrant  is 
making  out.'  I  felt  as  if  ready  to  swoon  away.  '  How 
know  you  this  ?'  demanded  I,  trembling  violently.  *  I 
am  one  of  the  committee,'  said  he,  casting  down  his 
eyes  ;  '  and  being  a  shoemaker,  I  thought  these  shoes 
would  afford  me  a  reasonable  pretext  for  advertising 
you,  madam.'  I  could  have  embraced  the  good  young 
man.  He  perceived  that  I  wept,  and  I  believe  tears 
stood  in  his  own  eyes.  At  this  moment  Alexander  en- 
tered ;  I  threw  myself  into  his  arms.  *  You  see  my 
husband,'  said  I  to  the  shoemaker.  '  I  have  the  honor 
of  knowing  him,'  was  the  reply. 

"  Your  nephew,  learning  the  service  which  we  had 
received,  wished  to  reward  him  on  the  spot.  This  of- 
fer was  declined  in  a  manner  which  augmented  our  es  • 
teem.  Alexander  held  out  his  hand,  which  the  young 
man  took  with  respect,  but  without  embarrassment. 
Spite  of  our  solicitations,  Alexander  refused  to  flee. 

*  With  what  can  they  charge  me  ?'  asked  he  ;  '  I  love 
iberty ;  I  have  borne  arms  for  the  Revolution ;  and 
had  that  depended  upon  me,  the  termination  would 


S4  ujra  OF  josBPHims. 

have  been  in  favor  of  the  people.'  *  But  you  are  a 
noble,'  answered  the  young  man,  *  and  that  is  a  crime 
in  the  eyes  of  revolutionists, — it  is  an  irreparable  mis- 
fortune.' '  Which  they  can  charge  as  a  crime,'  added 
I ;  '  and  moreover,  they  accuse  you  of  having  been  one 
in  the  Constitutional  Assembly.'  '  My  friend,'  replied 
Alexander  with  a  noble  expression  and  firm  tone,  '  such 
is  my  most  honorable  title  to  glory — the  only  claim,  in 
fine,  which  I  prefer.  Who  would  not  be  proud  of  hav- 
ing proclaimed  the  rights  of  the  nation,  the  fall  of  des- 
potism, and  the  reign  of  the  laws  ?'  '  What  laws !'  ex- 
claimed I :  '  it  is  in  blood  they  are  written.'  *  Madam,' 
said  the  young  man,  with  an  accent  such  as  he  had  not 
yet  employed,  '  when  the  tree  of  liberty  is  planted  in 
an  unfriendly  soil,  it  must  be  watered  with  the  blood 
of  its  enemies.'  Beauharnais  and  I  looked  at  each 
other ;  in  the  young  man,  whom  nature  had  constitut- 
ed with  so  much  feeling,  we  recognized  the  revolution- 
ist whom  the  new  principles  had  been  able  to  render 
cruel. 

"  Meanwhile,  time  elapsed ;  he  took  his  leave  of  us, 
repeating  to  my  husband,  '  Within  an  hour  it  will  no 
longer  be  possible  to  withdraw  yourself  from  search. 
I  wished  to  save,  because  I  believe  you  innocent ;  such 
was  my  duty  to  humanity ;  but  if  I  am  commanded  to 
arrest  you, — pardon  me ;  I  shall  do  my  duty,  and  you 
will  acknowledge  the  patriot.  In  you  I  have  ever  be- 
held an  honorable  man — a  noble  and  generous  heart ; 
.t  is  impossible,  therefore,  that  you  should  not  also  be  a 
good  citizen.' 


IJKB   OF  JOSEPHINB.  85 

•<  When  our  visitor  had  departed,  *  Such/  said  Alex- 
ander to  me,  *  are  the  prejudices  with  which  our  youth 
are  poisoned.  The  blood  of  the  nobles,  of  those  even 
the  most  devoted  to  the  new  ideas,  must  nourish  liberty, 
if  these  new  men  of  the  Revolution  were  only  cruel 
and  turbulent,  this  sanguinary  thirst,  this  despotic  rage, 
would  pass  away ;  but  they  are  systematic,  and  Robes 
pierre  has  reduced  revolutionary  action  into  a  doc- 
trine. The  movement  will  cease  only  when  its  ene- 
mies, real  or  presumed,  are  annihilated,  or  when  its 
author  shall  be  no  more.  But  this  is  an  ordeal  which 
must  in  the  end  strengthen  liberty ;  she  will  ferment 
and  work  herself  clear  in  blood.'  '  You  make  me 
shudder,'  said  I  to  Alexander ;  *  can  you  speak  this  and 
not  flee?'  'Whither  flee?'  answered  my  husband: 
'is  there  a  vault,  a  garret,  a  hiding-place,  into  which 
the  eye  of  the  tyrant  does  not  penetrate  ?  Do  you  re- 
flect that  he  sees  with  the  eye  of  forty  thousand  com- 
mittees animated  by  like  dispositions  and  strong  in  his 
will  ?  The  torrent  rolls  along,  and  the  people  throwing 
themselves  into  it,  augment  its  force.  We  must  yield : 
if  I  be  condemned,  how  escape  ?  if  I  be  not,  free  or  in 
prison,  I  have  nothing  to  fear.'  My  tears,  my  en- 
treaties were  vain.  At  a  quarter  before  twelve,  three 
members  of  the  revolutionary  committee  made  their 
appearance,  and  our  house  was  filled  with  armed  men. 

"  Think  you  my  young  cordwainer  formed  one  in 

this  band  ?     You  are  not  deceived,  and  his  functions 

there  were  painful  to  me.    I  confess,  however,  I  beheld 

him  exercise  these  with  a  sort  of  satisfaction.    He  it 
3  B« 


3tt  LIFIi  OF  JOSEPmSTB. 

was  who  signified  to  Alexander  the  order  placing  him 
under  arrest,  which  he  did  with  equal  urbanity  and 
firmness.  In  the  midst  of  a  crisis  so  grievous  to  me,  I 
could  not  help  observing  in  this  young  man  a  tone  of 
authority  and  decency  which  placed  him  in  striking 
contrast  with  his  two  colleagues.  One  of  these,  the 
same  old  inquisitor  who  the  night  previously  had  made 
it  his  business  to  inquire  concerning  the  presence  and 
occupation  of  my  husband,  was  once  a  planter  in  Mar- 
tinico,  and  who,  despite  of  equality,  has  never  beheld 
in  the  human  species  but  two  classes, — masters  and 
slaves.  His  present  opinion  is,  that  the  Revolution 
will  be  brought  to  a  happy  conclusion  only  when  its 
agents  shall  have  reduced  all  its  enemies  to  the  condi- 
tion of  the  negroes  of  Senegal  when  exported  into 
America ;  and  to  accomplish  this  end,  he  demands  that 
the  whole  race  of  priests,  nobles,  proprietors,  philos- 
ophers, and,  in  short,  all  the  aristocratic  classes,  be 
despatched  to  St.  Domingo,  there  to  replace  the  caste 
of  the  blacks,  suppressed  by  the  Revolution.  *  Thus,' 
added  the  ferocious  wretch,  addressing  his  words  to 
me  with  a  sinister  glance  directed  from  his  sunken 
eyes,  '  thus  the  true  republicans  secure  the  grand  moral 
triumph,  by  measures  of  profound  and  elevated  policy !' 
His  third  compeer,  vulgar  and  brutal,  busied  himself  in 
taking,  in  a  blustering  way,  an  inventory  of  the  prin- 
cipal pieces  of  furniture  and  papers.  From  these  latter 
he  made  a  selection,  collecting  the  pieces  into  a  parcel, 
which  was  sealed  and  forwarded  to  the  committee. 
The  choice  chiefly  included   reports  and   discourses 


UTE   OF  JOSEPHINB.  87 

pronounced  by  Alexander  in  the  Constitutional  Assem- 
bly. This  meeting,  held  in  horror  by  the  revolution- 
ists, is  not  less  odious  to  the  aristocrats  of  all  classes 
and  shades.  Does  not  this  prove  that  that  assembly 
had  resolved  all  the  problems  of  the  Revolution,  and, 
as  respects  liberty,  had  founded  all  the  necessary 
establishments  ?  From  the  regime  of  1789,  it  had 
taken  away  all  means ;  from  that  of  1793,  it  removed 
all  hope,  Alexander  has  often  repeated  to  me,  that  to 
neither  there  remained  any  chance  of  rising,  save  by 
violence  and  crime.  Ah!  why  did  he  foresee  so  justly, 
and  why  should  he,  to  the  title  of  a  prophet,  perhaps 
add  that  of  a  martyr?" 

De  Beauharnais  was  a  prisoner,  and  Josephine  a 
lonely  mother.  She  learned  in  her  calamity,  that 
saddest  lesson  of  life,  the  frailty  of  friendship,  which 
dbappears,  too  often,  with  the  first  breath  of  the  rising 
storm.  She  complains  touchingly  of  this  abandon- 
ment by  those  who  frequented  her  mansion  in  brighter 
days,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  and  turns  with  mournful 
pleasure  to  the  messages  that  reach  her  from  the  cell 
of  her  calm  and  even  cheerful  husband. 

"  Think  of  my  house  solitary,  myself  more  solitary 
— more  forsaken  still.  In  the  course  of  five  days,  since 
he  was  taken  from  me,  all  his  friends  have  disappeared, 
one  by  one.  At  this  moment  when  I  sit  down  to  write 
it  is  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  nobody  has  come 
here.  Nobody!  I  am  wrong;  my  excellent  young 
man  does  not  stand  aloof ;  he  comes  twice  or  thrice  in 
the  day  with  news  from  Luxembourg.     Provided  his 


38  UVS  OP  JOSEPHINB. 

duty  be  hot  compromised,  he  cares  little  about  exposing 
his  person ;  the  pestilence  of  misfortune  does  not  keep 
him  at  a  distance.  Alexander  confides  to  him  those 
letters  which  he  desires  I  only  should  read ;  his  jailers. 
the  committee,  have  the  first  perusal  of  the  others." 

There  is  a  quiet  raillerie  in  his  letters,  which  illus- 
trates the  unconquerable  buoyancy  of  the  national 
character,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  subjoined  communi 
cation. 


VISCOUNT    DE    BEAUHARNAIS    TO    JOSEPHINE. 

*  Lo  1  pauvre  petite,  you  are  still  unreasonable,  and 
I  must  console  you  ?  That,  however,  I  can  easily  do ; 
for  even  here  is  the  abode  of  peace  when  the  con- 
science is  tranquil,  and  where  one  can  cultivate  for 
one's  self  and  others  all  the  benevolent  sentiments  of 
the  heart,  all  the  best  qualities  of  the  spirit,  all  the  gen 
tie  affections  of  our  nature.  I  should  be  troubled  about 
our  separation,  were  it  to  be  long ;  but  I  am  a  soldier ; 
and  at  a  distance  from  you,  my  sweet  Josephine,  re- 
moved from  our  dear  children,  I  bethink  myself  of  war , 
in  truth,  a  slight  misadventure  is  a  campaign  against 
misfortune.  Ah !  if  you  knew  how  we  learn  to  com- 
bat our  mischance  here,  you  would  blush  for  having 
been  afflicted.  Every  captive — now  this  is  literally 
the  case — leaves  his  sorrows  at  the  grated  entrance, 
and  shows  within  only  good-humor  and  serenity.  We 
have  transported  to  the  Luxembourg  the  entire  of  so- 
ciety, excepting  politics ;  thus,  you  will  grant  me  that 


UFK  OP  JOSEPHDTB.  89 

we  have  left  the  thorns  in  order  to  gather  the  roses. 
We  have  here  charming  women,  who  are  neither 
prudes  nor  coquettes ;  old  men,  who  neither  carp  nor 
moralize,  and  who  demean  themselves  kindly ;  men  of 
mature  age,  who  are  not  projectors ;  young  men,  al- 
most reasonable ;  and  artists,  well  bred,  sober,  without 
pride,  amuse  us  by  a  number  of  pleasant  facts,  and  en- 
tertaining anecdotes ;  and,  what  will  astonish  you  more 
than  all  the  rest,  we  have  monied  men,  become  as  po- 
lite and  obliging  as  they  were  generally  vulgar  and  im- 
pertinent. We  have  here,  then,  all  that  is  best,  always 
excepting  my  Josephine  and  our  dear  children.  Oh ! 
the  choice — the  good — the  best,  compose  that  cherish- 
ed trio.  I  ought  likewise  to  except  our  good  friend 
Kevil ;  the  only  fault  in  him  is  his  notion  of  relation- 
ship to  Brutus.  As  to  his  title  of  committee  man,  1 
have  no  reproach  to  make  on  that  score ;  I  find  it  too 
much  in  my  favor.  He  is  the  messenger,  my  beloved 
friend,  who  will  convey  to  you  this  letter,  in  which  I 
enclose  one  thousand  kisses,  until  such  time  as  I  shall 
be  able  more  substantially  to  deliver  them  myself, 
and  without  counting." 

Such  were  the  consolations  of  infidelity  during  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  Men  listened  to  the  sentence  of  ex- 
ecution with  a  smile  of  indifference,  made  mirth  at 
their  hastening  departure  from  time,  and  gazed  with 
jesting  lips  upon  the  lifted  blade  of  the  guillotine,  wet 
with  the  blood  of  their  comrades ;  and  called  it  the  sub- 
lime decision  of  minds  which  were  above  the  shadow.s 
of  superstition,  and  in  the  clear  serene  of  reason! 


.       40  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE. 

Their  courage  was  madness,  and  their  joy  the  levity 
of  idiotic  folly.  How  strangely  in  this  period  of  law- 
lessness and  gigantic  crime,  did  man  affect  to  efface 
V  every  trace  of  the  Divine  image  from  his  soul — hush 
the  forebodings  of  future  retribution — and  blot  out  that 
instinctive  desire,  to  which  Von  Rotteck  finely  alludes 
in  his  splendid  history  :  "  Whenever  men  think  and  feel 
humanely,  there  lives  the  idea,  the  presentiment  at 
least,  of  God  and  immortality."  Neither  Beauharnais 
nor  Josephine  have  left  any  record  of  their  own  re- 
ligious opinions,  amid  the  blasphemies  of  this  almost 
universal  atheism,  whose  epitaph  upon  the  tombstones 
of  its  murdered  victims  was,  "  Death  is  an  eternal 
sleep !" 

Leaving  for  a  while  the  frightful  scenes  of  Paris, 
Josephine  made  every  exertion  to  alleviate  the  miseries 
of  the  suffering  poor  she  met  in  the  way,  or  followed 
to  their  kennels  in  the  suburbs  of  the  cities.  Widows 
and  orphans  were  famishing  in  groups,  while  the  cry 
for  bread  was  drowned  only  by  that  for  blood.  Many 
of  these  homeless  wretches  blessed  the  hand  of  Joseph- 
ine, and  lived  to  honor  gratefully  as  Queen  her  whom 
they  loved  as  a  ministering  angel  when  ready  to  perish. 
Confident  of  her  husband's  release,  she  cheerfully 
waited  for  the  event.  In  the  mean  time,  De  Beauhar- 
nais was  examined  before  a  revolutionary  committee — • 
a  tribunal  which  in  its  original  institution  was  styled, 
the  "  Committee  of  Public  Salvation  ;"  at  which  Robes- 
pierre, after  he  had  rid  himself  of  Danton,  who  shared 
the  power,  presided  in  "  bloody  omnipotence,"  and  like 


UTS  OF  JOSEPHDTE.  41 

Nero,  gloried  in  his  homicidal  pastime,  till  he  drained 
the  wine-cup  of  unmingled  depravity,  and  died  in  his 
hideous  intoxication. 

The  ordeal  was  so  favorable  to  the  integrity  of  the 
Viscount,  that  Josephine  was  encouraged  in  hope,  and 
sent  the  following  account  of  the  affair  to  Madam 
Fanny  de  Beauharnais,  which  will  be  read  with  in- 
terest, both  as  a  record  of  scenes  in  which  justice  was 
a  mockery,  and  an  index  of  characters  memorable  for 
cruelties  inflicted  in  the  name  of  liberty,  that  make  the 
spirit  recoil  from  the  contemplation  of  history. 

"  Alexander  has  been  examined  to-day,  and  to-mor- 
row I  shall  have  permission  to  visit  him.  The  presi- 
dent of  the  committee  is  a  good  enough  man,  but  void 
of  all  energy :  whom  I  know  not  how  many  quintals 
of  fat  deprive  of  movement,  ideas,  and  almost  of  speech 
With  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  he  has  less  au- 
thority than  the  meanest  clerk  in  his  office.  He  arrives 
late,  gets  to  his  chair,  puffing  and  blowing,  falls  down 
heavily,  and,  when  at  length  he  is  seated,  remains  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  without  speaking.  Meanwhile  a 
secretary  reads  reports  which  he  does  not  hear,  though 
affecting  to  listen  ;  sometimes  he  falls  asleep  during  the 
reading,  a  circumstance  which  prevents  not  his  awak- 
ing just  in  time  to  sign  what  he  has  neither  heard  nor 
understood.  As  to  the  examinations  which  he  com- 
mences, and  which  all  of  his  colleagues  continue,  some 
are  atrocious,  a  great  number  ridiculous,  and  all  more 
or  less  curious.  What,  indeed,  can  be  more  remarka- 
ble than  to  behold  the  highest  orders  interrogated  be- 


49  LIFE  OF  josephhtb. 

fore  those  who,  notwithstanding  their  elevation,  are  but 
tlie  dregs  of  society  ?  My  dear  aunt,  when  I  speak 
thus,  understand  me  to  make  no  reference  to  birth,  for- 
tiuie,  or  privileges;  but  to  sentiment,  conduct,  and 
principles. 

"Enclosed  I  send  you  an  outline  of  my  husbands 
examination,  in  which,  as  you  will  perceive,  the  ridicu- 
lous contends  with  the  horrible:  Such  are  the  true 
features  of  our  era." 

"  President. — Who  are  you  ? 

M.  de  Beauharnais. — A  man,  and  a  Frenchman. 

President. — None  of  your  gibes  here !  I  demand 
your  name. 

M.  de  B  — Eugene- Alexander  de  Beauharnais. 

A  Member. — No  de,  if  you  please ;  it  is  too  aristo- 
cratic. 

M.  de  B. — Feudal,  you  would  say.  It  is  certain,  a 
name  without  the  particle  would  be  more  rational. 
The  offence,  if  it  be  one,  comes  of  time,  and  my  an- 
cestors. 

Another  Member. — Ah !  so  you  have  got  ancestors  \ 
The  confession  is  an  honest  one ;  it  is  well  to  know  as 
much.  Note  ^Aa^,  citizens ;  he  has  a grandfatlier,  and 
makes  no  secret  of  it.  [Here  nine  of  the  twelve  mem- 
bers composing  the  committee  fell  a  laughing.  One  of 
those  who,  amid  the  general  gayety,  had  maintained 
an  appearance  of  seriousness,  called  out,  in  a  loud 
tone,  '  Fools  !  who  does  not  know  that  ancestors  are 
old  musty  parchments  ?  Is  it  this  man's  fault  if  his 
credentials  have  not  been  burned  ?    Citizen,  I  advise 


1IFB  OF  JOSEPHIMB.  4S 

thee  to  bestow  them  here  with  the  committee,  and  I 
give  thee  the  assurance  that  a  good  bonfire  shall  soon 
render  us  an  account  of  thine  ancestors.'  Here  a 
ridiculous  laughter  took  possession  of  the  entire  of  the 
honorable  council,  and  not  without  much  difficulty 
could  the  fat  president  recall  them  to  a  sense  of  de- 
corum. At  the  same  time,  this  explosion  of  hilarity 
having  put  him  into  good-humor,  he  politely  requested 
the  accused  to  be  seated.  Again  he  was  interrupted 
by  a  member  caUing  him  to  order,  for  having  used.the 
plural  to  a  suspected  citizen.  Hereupon  the  uproar 
began  anew  more  violently  than  ever,  from  the  word 
Monsieur  having  been  applied  to  the  president  by  the 
member  as  a  joke.  Order  once  more  established,  my 
husband  embraced  the  first  moment  of  silence  to  feli- 
citate the  members  on  the  innocent  nature  of  their 
discussions,  and  to  congratulate  himself  in  having  for 
judges  magistrates  of  such  a  jpyous  disposition.] 

President,  with  an  important  air. — Dost  take  our 
operations  for  farces  ?  Thou  art  prodigiously  deceived. 
The  suspected  citizen  is  right,  colleagues,  in  calling  us 
judges;  that  title  ought  to  restore  us  to  gravity. 
Formerly,  it  was  permitted  to  laugh,  now  we  must  be 
serious. 

M.  de  B. — Such  is  the  distinction  between  the  old 
and  new  regime. 

President. — Proceed  we  then  seriously,  and  con- 
tinue the  examination.  Citizen  Jarbac  (to  one  of  the 
secretaries,)  be'st  thou  there  ?  (To  M.  de  B.) — Thy 
titles  and  quahties? 


44  LI7B  OF  JOSBPEdNX. 

M.  dc  B. — A  French  citizen,  and  a  general  in  the 
service  of  the  republic. 

A  Member. — President,  he  does  not  declare  all ;  he 
was  formerly  a — 

Another  Member. — A  prince  or  a  baron  at  least. 

M.  de  B.,  smiling. — Only  a  vicomte,  if  so  please 
you,  and  quite  enough,  too. 

President. — Enough !  it  is  a  great  deal  too  much : 
so  you  confess  being  a  noble. 

M.  de  B. — I  confess  that  some  men  so  call  me,  and 
80,  for  some  time,  I  believed,  under  the  reign  of  igno- 
rance, habit,  and  prejudice. 

President. — Acknowledge  also  that  you  are  not 
yet  entirely  disabused. 

M.  de  B. — The  obstinacy  of  some  men  who  persist 
in  combating  a  chimera  preserves  for  such  things  a 
sort  of  reality.  As  for  myself,  I  have  long  regarded 
the  illusion  as  dissipated.  Reason  had  taught  me  that 
there  could  exist  no  distinctions  save  those  which  re- 
sult from  virtue,  talent,  or  service ;  a  sound  policy  has 
since  demonstrated  to  me  that  there  ought  to  exist 
none  other. 

Citizen  Nevil. — That  I  call  reasoning  from  prin- 
ciple. 

President. — Without  denying  the  consequences^ 
whence  has  the  accused  derived  these  principles.' 
From  the  Constitutional  Assembly  ? 

M.  de  B. — I  consider  it  an  honor  to  have  been  a 
member  of  that  Assembly. 

President. — Did  you  not  ever  preside  there  ? 


UFS  OF  JOSEPHINE.  4^ 

31.  de  B. — Yes,  citizen  ;  and  at  an  ever-momorablo 
era. 

President. — That  was  after  the  flight  of  the  tyrant? 

M.  de  B. — That  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  journey 
of  Louis  XVI.  to  Varennes,  and  on  his  return. 

Member. — For  a  bet,  the  citizen  does  not  consider 
Lewis  Capet  to  have  been  a  tyrant. 

M.  de  B. — History  will  explain,  and  posterity  will 
pronounce. 

Citizen  Nevil. — The  question  here  is,  not  what  eiti- 
zen  Beauharnais  thinks,  but  what  he  has  done. 

President. — Just — most  just :  see  we  then  what 
citizen  Beauharnais  has  done. 

M.  de  B. — Nothing ;  and  that  in  a  distempered  time, 
I  conceive  to  be  the  best  of  all  proceedings. 

President. — Thus  you  declare  for  no  party  ?* 

M.  de  B. — No,  if  by  party  you  mean  factions  which 
hate  each  other,  rend  the  State,  and  impede  the  reign 
of  the  laws,  and  the  strengthening  of  the  republic  ;  but 
yes — if  by  party  you  understand  the  immense  majority 
of  the  French  people  who  desire  independence  and 
liberty :  of  that  party  am  I. 

A  Member. — It  remains  to  be  known  through  what 
means  of  adherence  •* 

M.  de  B. — I  should  prefer,  in  order  to  persuade,  the 
means  employed  by  reason,  to  convince  those  of  sen- 
timent, against  anarchy,  by  turns  the  cause  and  the 
effect  of  factions :  I  nevertheless  believe  it  is  not  forbid- 
den to  employ  force.  But  I  require  that  it  be  used  so 
as  not  to  be  abused ;   that  men  have  recourse  to  it 


46  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHIXE. 

rarely,  and  that  they  yield  to  humanity  whatever  they 
can  take  from  severity  without  compromising  the 
safety  of  the  State. 

A  Member,  (it  was  the  old  wretch  charged  with  the 
arrest  of  my  husband.) — Humanity  !  humanity !  In 
certain  mouths,  such  language  is  suspected. 

M.  de  B. — And  ought  to  be  so,  if  it  signify  pity  for 
wilful  criminals ;  but  it  is  respectable  when  invoked 
in  favor  of  inexperience  and  error. 

A  Member. — Such  is  the  tone  held  by  all  mode- 
rates. 

M.  de  B. — Moderation  is  the  daughter  of  reason, 
and  the  mother  of  power ;   why  should  I  be  violent 
and  agitated,  if,  in  a  sound  state  of  mind,  I  feel  my 
self  vigorous  through  calmness,  and  powerful  by  wis- 
dom? 

Nevil. — I  assure  you,  citizens,  that  neither  Rous- 
seau, nor  Mably,  nor  Montesquieu  ever  wrote  any- 
thing more  sensible. 

A  Member. — Who  are  these  people  ?  do  they  belong 
to  the  section  ? 

Another  Member. — Don't  you  see  they  are  Feuillans  ? 
All  that  has  the  smack  of  moderatism,  and  is  not 
worth  a  -: . 

President. — You  are  all  wrong,  citizens  ;  these  are 
authors  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  you  may  see 
their  tragedies  played  every  night  at  the  Theatre 
Fran^ais." 

"  Here  a  new  uproar  ensued,  some  defending,  others 
impugning,  these  novel  discoveries  in  literary  history. 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHIITE.  47 

My  husband  would  have  smiled  in  derision,  had  he 
not  sighed  to  think  in  whose  hands  the  fate  of  his 
fellow-citizens  had  thus  been  placed.  Nevil,  by  labor- 
ing to  bring  back  the  debate  to  its  proper  object, 
endeavored  to  terminate  a  sitting  equally  painful  and 
ludicrous.  After  some  more  absurd  and  irrelevant 
interrogatories,  the  president  decided  for  the  provisional 
detention  of  Alexander.  *  Time  will  thus  be  afforded,' 
so  concluded  his  address,  with  revolutionary  fore- 
thought, '  for  convicting  you ;  and  you,  citizen,  will 
have  leisure  for  your  defence.  If  you  love  your 
country,  you  can  serve  it  as  well  by  your  resignation 
as  by  your  activity  ;  and  if  liberty  be  dear  to  you,  it 
will  become  much  more  so  in  a  prison.  Thereupon,  1 
remit  you,  not  as  culpable — God  forbid !  but  as  one 
who  may  become  guilty.  You  will  be  inscribed  upon 
the  registers  of  the  Luxembourg  merely  with  this 
favorable  remark :  committed  of  being  suspected  !'  " 

Mercy  was  an  attribute  unknown  except  in  fitful, 
momentary  manifestations,  with  those  who  sat  in  the 
judgment-seat  during  this  frightful  period.  Louis  of 
the  Lower  Rhine,  who  was  a  companion  in  crime  and 
rank  with  Robespierre,  yielded  to  the  entreaty  of 
Beauharnais,  and  consented  to  a  meeting  of  his  family 
with  him  in  prison.  She  received  the  intelligence 
with  a  bounding  and  hopeful  heart,  as  the  dawn  of 
returning  joy  to  her  desolate  dwelling,  and  hastened 
with  Eugene  and  Hortense,  to  embrace  the  captive. 
Josephine  has  feelingly  and  most  beautifully  described 


48  LIFE   OP  JOSKPHINB. 

the  scene  which  followed,  in  a  letter  to  her  sympathiz- 
ing aunt. 

"  This  has  been  a  day  at  once  very  delightful,  and 
very  painful.  My  husband  having  desired  to  see  us,  I 
resolved,  in  order  to  spare  their  young  feelings,  to  send 
the  children  first,  and  Nevil  took  charge  of  them  for 
this  purpose.  They  had  for  some  time  been  told  that 
their  father,  being  sick,  was  under  the  care  of  a  famous 
physician,  who,  on  account  of  the  salubrity  of  the  air, 
and  the  spacious  buildings,  resided  in  the  Luxembourg. 
The  first  interview  passed  over  very  well ;  only  Hor- 
tense  remarked  that  papa's  apartments  were  extremely 
small,  and  the  patients  very  numerous.  At  the  time  1 
arrived  they  had  left  their  father,  a  kind-hearted  turn 
key,  gained  by  Nevil,  having  taken  the  precaution  to 
keep  them  removed.  They  had  gone  to  visit  in  the 
neighboring  cells,  whose  inmates  were  touched  by  their 
youth,  their  situation,  and  their  ingenuousness.  I 
dreaded  the  sight  of  our  mutual  emotion  :  our  interview 
took  place  in  their  absence.  Alexander,  who  supports 
his  captivity  with  courage,  showed  himself  unable  to 
bear  up  against  my  tears.  Recovering  myself  at 
length,  and  alarmed  to  see  him  so  greatly  moved,  1 
constrained  my  own  sorrow,  and  endeavored  in  turn  to 
soothe  his.  Our  children  now  made  their  appearance. 
This  brought  on  a  new  crisis,  the  more  painful  that  we 
felt  its  cause  must  be  dissembled. 

'  Hortense,  who  is  sincerity  itself,  was  f6r  long  de- 
ceived, and  in  all  the  tenderness  of  an  affectionate 
heart,  wished  to  persuade  us  that  we  acted  wrong  in 


LIFE    OF   JOSEPHINB.  49 

afflicting  ourselves,  since  papa's  illness  was  not  danger- 
ous. All  this  while  poor  Hortense  exhibited  that  light 
air  of  incredulous  hesitation  which  you  know  beconnes 
her  so  well.  '  Do  you  believe  that  papa  is  ill  ?'  said  she 
to  her  brother ;  '  if  so,  at  least,  it  is  not  the  sickness 
which  the  doctors  cure.'  '  What  do  you  mean,  my 
dear  girl,*  asked  I ;  *  can  you  suppose  that  papa  and  1 
would  contrive  between  us  to  deceive  you  ?'  '  Pardon, 
mamma,  but  I  do  think  so.'  '  Oh !  sister,'  eagerly 
interrupted  Eugene, '  that  is  a  very  singular  speech  of 
yours !'  '  On  the  contrary,'  replied  she,  '  it  is  quite 
simple  and  natural.'  '  How,  miss  ?'  said  I,  in  my  turn, 
affecting  severity.  '  Unquestionably,'  continued  the 
little  sly  one,  'good  parents  are  permitted  to  deceive 
their  children  when  they  wish  to  spare  them  uneasi- 
ness; is  it  not  so,  mamma?'  At  these  words,  she 
threw  herself  upon  my  bosom,  and,  putting  one  arm 
around  her  father's  neck,  drew  him  gently  towards  us. 
A  smile  shone  through  her  tears ;  and  Eugene,  min- 
gling his  cdresses  in  this  domestic  scene,  rendered  thg 
whole  truly  affecting.  Amiable  and  gentle  child,  he 
shows  as  much  singleness  of  heart  as  his  sister  displays 
penetration  and  spirit.  Both  have  hitherto  formed  our 
joy :  why  should  it  be,  that,  at  this  crisis,  they  are  the 
cause  of  our  most  lively  disquietudes,  and  occasion  to 
me — to  me  personally,  inexpressible  uneasiness,  which 
I  am  unable  to  subdue,  and  can  with  difficulty  combat ; 
for  myself  I  have  no  fear ;  but  for  them — for  Alexan- 
der, I  become  a  very  coward. 

"  In  the  course  of  the  visits  which  my  children  had 


M  LIFS   Of  JOSKPHIMii:. 

made,  and  from  the  conversations  my  daughter  had 
collected,  and  overheard,  she  had  divined  that  her 
father  was  a  prisoner.  We  now  acknowledged  what 
it  was  no  longer  possible  to  conceal.  '.And  the  rea- 
son ?'  demanded  Hortense.  Eren  her  brother,  less 
timid  than  usual,  would  know  the  motive  for  such 
severity.  It  would  have  been  very  difficult  to  satisfy 
them.  Strange  abuse  of  power,  abused  and  despicable 
excess  of  tyranny,  which  a  child  has  judgment  to 
condemn,  which  all  ought  to  possess  the  right  to 
punish,  and  yet  of  which  men  dare  not  complain  ! 

"  *  Oh,'  cried  Hortense,  '  when  we  are  able,  we  will 
punish  your  accusers.'  '  Hush,  my  child,'  said  her 
father,  *  were  you  to  be  overheard  speaking  thus,  I 
should  be  ruined,  as  well  as  yourself  and  your  mother  ; 
while  we  would  not  then  enjoy  the  consolation  of 
being  presented  altogether  unjustly.'  '  Have  you  not 
often  explained  to  us,'  remarked  Eugene,  'that  it  is 
lawful  to  resist  oppression  ?'  '  I  repeat  the  same  senti- 
pient  once  more,'  replied  my  husband  ;  '  but  prudence 
ought  to  accompany  resistance ;  and  he  who  would 
overcome  tyranny,  must  be  careful  not  to  put  the 
tyrant  on  his  guard.' 

"  By  degrees  the  conversation  assumed  a  less  serious 
turn.  We  forgot  the  present  misfortune  to  give  our- 
selves up  to  soft  remembrances  and  future  plans.  You 
will  readily  conceive  that  in  these  latter  you  were  far 
from  being  overlooked. 

"  '  I  wish  every  possible  happiness  to  my  aunt,'  said 
Alexander,  laughing :  '  nevertheless   as  the  Nine  are 


LITE  OP  JOSEPHHTB.  -MS- 

said  never  to  be  so  interesting  as  when  they  are  aflaict- 
ed,  I  would  beseech  just  a  few  days'  captivity  for  my 
aunt's  nurse ;  a  fine  elegy  would  doubtless  be  the  re- 
sult, and  the  glory  of  the  poetess,  by  immortalizing  her 
prison  would  prove  ample  consolation  for  having  in- 
habited one.'  What  say  you  to  the  wish,  my  dear 
aunt?" 

While  that  parental  training  developed  in  this  sim- 
ple narrative,  which  in  any  emergency  finds  falsehood 
an  auxiliary,  may  be  as  questionable  as  the  counsel  of 
the  French  nobleman  to  his  wife,  urging  the  neces- 
sity of  teaching  his  sons  fashionable  oaths  as  a  pre- 
ventive to  lying;  Josephine  evidently  imparted  ele- 
vated sentiments  to  her  children,  which  were  enforced 
by  their  unfortunate  father,  and  sealed  with  his 
blood. 

The  very  expressions  of  patriotism,  and  hostility  to 
despotism,  which  were  exchanged  in  this  domestic 
group,  were  overheard  by  the  spies  of  the  Convention, 
and  reported  to  the  "  man-slayer,"  who  guided  its  "  in-  . 
fernal  machinery."  The  severities  which  marked  the 
treatment  of  prisoners  were  increased — closer  confine- 
ment required,  and  life  soon  lavished  in  atonement 
for  the  kindness  of  delay.  In  another  communication 
to  her  relative,  Josephine  writes  : — 

"  I  must  now,  my  esteemed  aunt,  collect  all  my  forti- 
tude to  inform  you  of  the  catastrophe  which  has  just 
befallen  us ;  you  will  need  the  whole  of  yours  to  sus- 
tain the  recital.  The  observations  made  by  my  hus- 
band to  his  children,  and  which  I  transmitted,  will  not 

C 


-9li  LIFB  OP  JOSEPHINE. 

have  escaped  you.  '  It  is  permitted,'  such  were  his 
words  to  Eugene,  '  it  is  even  a  duty  to  resist  oppres- 
sion ;  but  prudence  ought  to  direct  force,  and  he  who 
would  subvert  or  subdue  tyranny  must  beware  of  dis- 
closing his  designs.'  To  explain  to  you  how  these 
words,  which  we  conceived  were  heard  by  ourselves 
alone,  reached  the  ears  of  spies,  would  be  difficult  for 
me  ;  and  now  that  I  reflect  upon  the  circumstance,  the 
disclosure  appears  still  more  mysterious.  At  first  we 
suspected  Nevil ;  but  you  will  conceive  with  what  in- 
dignation against  ourselves  we  repelled  a  suspicion 
which,  for  the  moment,  forced  itself  upon  our  alarmed 
fancy.  One  of  the  saddest  miseries  of  adversity  is, 
that  it  renders  men  unjust,  awakening  doubts  of  the 
sincerity  of  friendship,  so  rarely  given  to  misfortune. 
In  thinking  the  best  of  the  conduct  of  that  excellent 
young  man  1  did  well ;  for  it  is  still  through  his  means 
that  I  am  able  to  transmit  you  the  following  details  : — 
I  am  thus  completely  ignorant  by  whom  or  in  what 
manner  we  have  been  betrayed. 

"  As  soon  as  the  Revolutionary  Committee  had 
knowledge  of  my  poor  Alexander's  remark,  they  inter- 
cepted all  communication  between  him  and  the  other 
prisoners ;  and,  which  has  thrown  us  into  greater  con- 
sternation still,  between  him  and  his  family.  On  the 
morrow  he  was  shut  up  in  his  chamber,  which  fortu- 
nately opens  upon  a  small  corridor  communicating  with 
a  second  apartment,  at  present  unoccupied,  an  arrange- 
ment which,  hitherto  unobserved,  triples  the  space  for 
exercise.     Two  days  after,  the  doors  were  thrown  open, 


LIFS  OF  JOSSPHINI!.  Wm 

and  he  received  the  very  unexpected  visit  of  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Committee  of  General  Safety.  The  visitor 
was  Vadier,  his  colleague  in  the  Constitutional  Assem- 
bly, a  gray-headed,  suspicious  ruffian,  who  follows  the 
dictates  of  habitual  misanthropy,  and  with  whom  sus- 
picions are  equivalent  to  proofs.  In  the  tone  assumed 
with  my  husband,  the  latter  instantly  recognized  pre- 
judice and  personal  hatred,  and  shrunk  from  penetrat- 
ing farther.  As  for  myself,  the  bare  idea  causes  me  to 
shudder,  and  were  I  to  dwell  upon  the  thought  for  a 
moment,  I  feel  that  terror  would  freeze  my  heart. 

" '  Without  inquiring,'  answered  Alexander,  *  by 
what  means  you  have  discovered  my  thoughts,  I  am 
very  far  from  disavowing  the  maxim  which  you  repeat 
after  me,  or  the  principles  you  attribute  to  me.  Is  not 
the  entire  theory  of  the  Revolution  comprehended  in 
these  ideas  ?  do  they  not  teach  a  doctrine  which  its 
friends  have  reduced  to  practice  ?  are  not  these  princi- 
ples yours  also  ?'  '  All  that  I  grant,'  replied  Vadier ; 
*  but  times,  places,  persons,  change  all ;  and  a  truth  of 
this  nature,  admirable  as  it  may  be  in  speculation,  be- 
comes a  dagger  when  men  know  not  how  to  use  it ;  it 
is  a  two-edged  weapon  which  we  have  done  well  in  di- 
recting against  the  enemies  of  liberty :  but  if  it  so  hap- 
pen that  those  who  have  been  wounded,  though  not 
prostrated,  essay  to  turn  it  against  the  defenders  of 
freedom,  if,  in  such  a  retrograde  and  criminal  move- 
ment, they  were  guided  by  one  of  those  arms  which 
had  combated  them,  and  which  in  protecting  them  to- 
day, desired  to  avenge  their  wounds  of  the  past,  say, 


fA  LIFS  01'  JOSfiPHUnC 

would  such  a  one  be  guiltless  ?  would  the  intentions  he 
obeyed  be  pure  ?  or,  could  too  great  severity  be  exer- 
cised to  prevent  the  effect  rather  than  have  to  punish 
the  consequences  ?'  '  In  these  dangerous  and  forced  de- 
ductions/ answered  M.  de  B.,  '  I  recognize  the  doctrine 
of  your  master.  Under  deceitful  hypotheses  you  may 
base  at  will  the  scaffolding  of  any  proposition,  however 
absurd ;  and  arguing  from  the  possible  to  the  positive, 
you  deliver  the  innocent  to  punishment,  as  the  means 
of  preventing  them  from  guilt.'  '  Whoever  is  suspect- 
ed/ was  the    atrocious    reply,   'deserves    suspicion.' 

*  Speak  more  honestly  at  once,'  replied  your  nephew : 
'  whoever  is  innocent  soon  falls  under  suspicion  ;  and, 
once  suspected,  he  perishes  ;  if  it  be  imagined  that  his 
innocence  may  waver,  you  quickly  punish  him  as  crim- 
mal.'  '  You  press  the  consequences  rather  from  feeling 
than  reason,'  returned  Vadier ;  '  we  designate  and  treat 
as  criminal,  him  only  who  impedes  or  corrupts  the 
principles  of  the  Revolution.  Would  you  have  spoken 
out  had  not  the  anti-revx)lutionary  doctrines,  in  de- 
spite of  us,  and  even  without  our  knowledge,  refuted 
you  ?     Woe  to  the  guilty  who  compromise  themselves.* 

*  Woe,  rather,'  cried  my  husband,  *  woe  to  those  tyrants 
who  explain,  or  rather  who  mystify,  by  an  insidious 
and  crafty  sophistry,  their  system  of  manslaughter !  we 
may  easily  put  aside  the  thrust  which  is  aimed  at  ui 
in  honest  hostility ;  and,  as  the  President  du  Harley  re- 
marks, a  mighty  space  interposes  between  the  heart  of 
the  good  man  and  the  poniard  of  the  miscreant.  But 
how  avoid  the  stab  made  in  darkness  ?  there  is  no 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE.  ffi 

remedy ;  we  must  be  silent  and  bare  the  throat.'  At 
these  words,  which  I  much  blame,  the  old  President  of 
the  General  Safety  Committee  left  the  prison ;  and 
Nevil,  who  had  been  listening  in  the  corridor,  imagined 
he  remarked  in  his  naturally  stern  countenance  an  in- 
describable expression  of  the  most  sinister  import.  I 
shall  keep  you  daily  informed  of  the  consequences  of 
this  affair,  which  fills  me  with  inexpressible  alarm." 

The  horizon  now  blackened  around  De  Beauharnais, 
and  his  hunted  family — the  fatal  bolt  was  aimed  with 
relentless  and  murderous  decision  of  purpose  at  another 
warm  and  manly  heart,  whose  ebbing  current  would 
honor  the  soil  it  baptized,  and  like  that  of  the  first  mar- 
tyr, cry  to  Heaven  against 

"  Man's  inhumanity  to  man ;" 

whether  in  the  sceptred  homicide,  or  as  now,  a  fla- 
gitious mob,  apotheosizing  liberty  while  trampling  on 
her  sacred  form.  The  fearful  authority  of  Robespierre 
was,  at  this  stage  of  revolutionary  progress,  shaken,  and 
he  entered  upon  the  desperate  struggle  to  regain  his 
vanishing  and  terrible  greatness.  The  reaction  against 
the  monster  of  crime,  was  encouraged  by  Callot  d'Her- 
bois,  Tallien,  Barras,  and  others,  who  figured  as  chiefs 
in  the  events  which  preceded  the  27th  July,  1794 ; 
and  the  vigilance  and  activity  of  Robespierre's  emis- 
saries proportionally  incresfted. 

When,  therefore,  a  pretext  was  found  to  excite  the 
popular  feeling  more  intensely  against  the  "captive 
aristocracy,"  so  that  the  trembling  demon  of  the  fierce 


58  LIFB   OF  JOSErniNE. 

commotion,  and  his  subordinate  spirits,  might  dispose 
of  their  foes  with  the  guillotine,  it  was  improved  with 
cowardly  haste. 

Soon  after  the  interesting  scene  in  the  cell  of  Beau- 
liarnais,  the  revolutionary  newspapers  came  out  with 
flaming  editorials  upon  the  "  grand  conspiracy  discov- 
ered in  the  house  of  seclusion  at  the  Luxembourg ;" 
and  with  the  assurance  that  the  argus-eyed  adminis- 
tration would  penetrate  the  terrible  plot,  threatened 
the  summary  punishment,  which  too  quickly  followed, 

Nevil,  the  youth  who  in  disguise  attempted  to  save 
de  Beauharnais,  exhibiting  a  singular  attachment  to 
the  unfortunate  general  he  aided  officially  to  imprison, 
was  now  arrested,  and  conveyed  with  inquisitorial 
secrecy  to  his  place  of  confinement.  Then  the  "  Com- 
mittee" entered  the  sanctuary  of  home,  endeavoring  to 
extort  from  childhood,  evidence  of  parental  guilt.  The 
description  as  given  by  Josephine,  makes  the  con- 
templative reader  pause  with  painful  emotions  over  the 
public  and  domestic  tragedies  of  a  "  Republic,"  which 
poured  the  crimson  tide  of  human  life  in  sluices  along 
the  streets — and  instead  of  the  Genius  of  Liberty,  was 
guarded  by  atheistical  bacchanals,  grasping  the  drip- 
ping blade  of  the  assassin. 


JOSEPHINE    TO    MADAM    FANNY    DE    BEAUHARNAIS. 

• 

"  Will  you  believe  it,  my  dear  aunt  ?  My  children 
have  just  undergone  a  long  and  minute  examination ! 
That  wretched  old  man,  member  of  the  Committee, 


UFB  OV  JOSKPHmi;.  if 

and  whom  I  have  repeatedly  named  to  you,  introduced 
himself  into  my  house ;  and  under  pretence  of  feeling 
interested  in  my  husband,  and  of  entertaining  me,  set 
my  poor  ones  a  talking.  I  confess  that  at  first  I  was 
completely  thrown  off  my  guard  by  this  stratagem; 
only  I  could  not  help  wondering  at  the  affability  of 
such  a  personage.  Innate  guilt,  however,  soon  betray- 
ed itself  when  the  children  replied  in  terms  whence  it 
was  impossible  to  extort  the  least  implication  against 
their  unfortunate  parents.  Thus  I  speedily  detected 
the  deceit.  When  he  perceived  I  had  penetrated  hia 
craft,  he  ceased  to  feign,  and  declaring  that  he  had 
been  charged  with  obtaining  from  my  children  infor- 
mation so  much  the  more  certain  as  being  ingenuous, 
he  proceeded  to  interrogate  them  in  form.  Upon  this 
avowal,  I  was  sensible  of  an  inexpressible  revulsion 
taking  place  within  me ;  I  felt  that  I  grew  pale  with 
affright — that  I  now  reddened  with  anger — now  trem- 
bled with  indignation.  I  was  on  the  point  of  expressing 
to  this  hoary  revolutionist  the  loathing  with  which  he 
inspired  me,  when  the  thought  arose  that  I  might  thus 
do  injury  to  my  husband,  against  whom  this  execrable 
man  shows  inveterate  enmity ;  then  I  repressed  my  re- 
sentment in  silence.  Upon  his  desiring  to  be  left  alone 
with  my  little  ones,  I  felt  again  the  spirit  of  resistance 
rising  within  me;  but  such  ferocity  appeared  in  his 
looks  that  I  was  constrained  to  obey. 

"  Having  locked  up  Hortense  in  a  closet,  he  com 
menced  by  questioning  her  brother.  When  my  daugh> 
ter's  turn  came,  oh,  how  I  ti'embled  on  perceiving  the 


M  UFB  OF  JOSEPHINS. 

length  to  which  her  examination  extended !  for  our  in- 
quisitor had  not  failed  to  remark  in  the  dear  girl  an 
acuteness  and  penetration  far  beyond  her  years.  Af- 
ter sounding  them  as  to  our  conversations,  our  opin- 
ions, the  visits  and  letters  which  we  received,  and  es- 
pecially on  the  actions  which  they  might  have  wit- 
nessed, he  broached  the  capital  question,  namely,  the 
discourse  held  with  their  father  in  prison.  My  chil- 
dren, each  in  character  answered  excellently  well,  and 
spite  the  subtlety  of  the  wretch,  who  wished  to  find 
guilt,  the  sound  understanding  of  my  son  and  the  intel- 
ligent address  of  his  sisier,  disconcerted,  if  they  were 
not  able  to  confound,  the  knavery.  What  conse- 
quences will  they  extort  from  an  examination  such 
as  truth  dictates  to  lips  that  are  guileless  ?  It  can  re- 
dound only  to  the  triumph  of  innocence  and  the  shame 
of  its  accusers:  will  they  dare  to  produce  it,  if  thence 
arise  this  two-fold  check  ? 

"  Still  the  same  silence  concerning  the  unfortunate 
Nevil.  Notwithstanding  my  repugnance,  I  have  de 
cided  on  requesting  an  audience  of  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  General  Safety,  Louis,  (deputy  of  the 
Lower  Rhine,)  of  whom  report  speaks  less  unfavorably 
than  of  his  colleagues.  Your  nephew  has  expressly  pro- 
hibited me  from  seeing  these  men,  whom  he  regards  as 
the  assassins  of  our  country ;  but  he  has  not  forbidden 
me  to  solicit  from  gratitude,  and  in  favor  of  friendship. 
Had  he  done  so,  I  could  almost  have  dared  to  disobey 
the  injunction.  I  hold  the  ungrateful  in  horror,  and 
certainly  shall  never  increase  their  number." 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE.  5|i» 

She  was  successful  in  her  application — Louis  gained 
for  her  access  to  the  prison-police,  and  through  him  to 
Prosper  Sigas,  whose  decision  completed  the  formalities 
of  admission.  The  frightful  disclosures  which  were 
made  there,  in  the  loathsome  dungeons  of  innocence, 
reminded  one  of  the  gloomy  "  slave-ship,"  whose  rayless 
hold  of  sullen  wretches  was  at  length  opened  to  the 
light  of  day,  and  the  groans  heard,  Mihich  were  for 
centuries  wasted  on  the  solitude  of  the  ocean.  She 
graphically  portrays  some  of  those  horrors,  whose 
gigantic  sepulchre  under  the  old  order  of  things,  was 
the  ancient  Bastile,  swept  away  by  the  revolutionary 
storm.     The  letter  is  addressed  to 

MADAM    FANNY    BEAUHARNAIS. 

"  Louis,  the  deputy  of  the  Lower  Rhine,  whom  I 
just  saw  for  a  moment,  appeared  to  me  not  without 
some  good,  and  I  believe  him  not  insensible.  The 
accents  of  pity  seem  to  find  his  heart  not  inaccessible. 
He  does  not  repel  misfortune,  nor  add  bitterness  to  the 
reproaches  wrung  from  grief;  but  those  qualities 
precisely  which  recommend  him  to  the  oppressed, 
become  vices  and  lessen  his  influence  with  the  oppres- 
sors. He  enjoys  little  credit ;  and  after  hearing  my 
petition,  could  do  nothing  therein  directly,  but  intro- 
duced me  to  his  colleague,  who  is  charged  with  the 
police  of  the  prisoners.  The  latter,  with  malice  in  his 
look,  and  mockery  on  his  tongue,  complimented  me 
ironically  upon  the  interest  I  expressed  in  Nevil's  fate. 


0#^  LIFE  07  JOKEPUINB. 

'  The  cordwainer/  said  the  ruffian,  '  is  a  vigorous  and 
handsome  youth :  it  is  quite  as  it  should  be  for  him  to 
be  protected  by  a  woman  who  is  young  and  handsome 
also.  If  she  now  manifest  sensibility,  the  time  may 
come  when  he  will  be  able  to  show  his  gratitude.  As 
to  the  matter  in  hand,  however,  his  examination  being 
finished,  his  affair  is  no  longer  a  concern  of  mine. 
You  must  therefore  transport  yourself  into  the  office 
of  citizen  Prosper  Sigas,  who,  if  so  disposed,  may  grant 
you  the  required  permission.  You  may  say  that  I 
recommend  him  to  be  yielding,  for  it  is  really  a  sin  to 
keep  so  long  separated  from  each  other,  two  young 
people  who  only  ask  to  be  reunited.* 

"After  these  impertinences,  to  which  I  deigned  no 
reply,  the  fellow  gave  me  a  card  to  the  functionary 
whom  he  had  just  named.  Oh  !  as  for  this  latter,  he 
proved  quite  another  sort  of  person  :  to  my  delight  and 
great  astonishment,  I  found  in  M.  Sigas  all  the  urbanity 
desirable  in  a  man  of  the  world,  joined  to  that  knowl- 
edge of  detail  which  we  have  a  right  to  expect  in  a 
public  officer.  He  informed  me,  that  notwithstanding 
a  first  examination,  citizen  Nevil  still  remained  in  the 
depot  of  the  Committee  of  General  Security.  '  As  it  is 
supposed,'  continued  my  informant,  '  that  he  has  dis- 
closures to  make,  it  has  been  judged  fit  to  place  him 
there,  that  he  may  be  forthcoming  when  wanted.  I 
am  sorry  for  it,  first  on  his  own  account,  and  next  on 
yours,  madam,  whose  interest  he  appears  so  fortunate 
as  to  have  excited.  There  is  your  permission  to 
communicate  with  him ;   you   will  observe  that  it 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  fi 

authorizes  these  communicatioDs  only  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  witness ;  but  this  postcript  which  I  add, 
gives  the  power  to  render  the  witness  invisible  if  cir- 
cumstances permit ;  or,  if  not,  makes  him  blind  and 
deaf.'  Avow,  my  beloved  aunt,  that  though  now 
misplaced,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a  more  amia- 
ble personage  than  M.  Prosper  Sigas. 

"  From  the  officers  of  the  Committee  I  descended  to 
the  Hotel  de  Brionne,  under  the  gate  of  which  the 
depot  is  situated.  You  will  have  difficulty  in  believing 
that  neglect,  or  rather  atrocity,  could  be  carried  so  far 
as  to  establish  this  depot  in  a  subterranean  passage, 
narrow,  dark,  receiving  through  grated  loopholes  a 
struggling  and  doubtful  light,  and  which,  in  close 
contact  with  a  public  sewer,  has,  upon  the  roof,  the 
channels  of  wells  constantly  in  use.  In  this  damp, 
gloomy,  and  infected  hole  are  to  be  found,  by  tens  and 
twelves,  huddled  into  spaces  of  fifteen  feet  square, 
captives  unknown  to  each  other,  and  without  other  bed 
than  a  few  boards  raised  some  thirty  inches  from  the 
floor,  spreading  mutual  infection  from  the  bodies,  while 
ihey  envenom  the  evils  of  their  minds  by  dreadful 
confidences.  Here  groaned  Nevil,  when  to  his  great 
astonishment,  he  was  called  out,  and  recognized  me 
with  lively  satisfaction.  It  is  quite  true  that  he  has 
been  examined,  but  less  upon  what  concerns  my 
husband  than  upon  what  passed  at  the  Luxembourg. 
He  is  prepared  for  new  trials." 

Robespierre,  though  a  man  of  ordinary  powers,  and 
by  nature  a  coward,  besides  exercising  with  energy 


62  LIFE   OF   JOSEPniNB. 

that  paralyzsd  the  nation,  the  might  of  brute  force 
displayed  tact  in  the  management  of  that  horrible 
enginery,  which  shook  the  kingdoms  of  Europe. 
When  he  baheld  symptoms  of  a  reaction  involving  the 
decline  of  his  demoniac  authority,  like  a  lion  crouching 
before  the  hunted  prey  he  would  beguile  to  his  lair,  he 
affected  a  lenity,  against  which  his  bitter  spirit  chafed 
with  hidden  passion,  that  waited  only  the  opportunity 
to  send  forth  its  volcanic  fires.  He  gave  more  latitude 
to  the  press,  and  permitted  debate — apologizing  with 
apparent  regret  for  the  enormities  committed,  while  all 
the  time,  heads  were  rolling  upon  the  scaffold,  beneath 
the  axe,  whose  fatal  stroke  fell  like  the  steady  beat  of 
a  machine  for  perpetual  motion,  until  action  wore  our 
its  iron  heart. 

He  began  to  read  in  the  lurid  glare  of  the  meteor  of 
his  fame,  which  had  culminated  upon  a  sky  darkened 
with  the  smoke  of  slaughter,  the  despairing  looks  of 
millions,  and  caught  the  murmur  of  the  angry  deep, 
his  trident  had  ruled  too  long.  His  mercy  was  in  vain, 
only  as  it  threw  a  pleasant  illusion  upon  hearts  like 
Josephine's,  tortured  with  suspense,  and  clinging  to  the 
object  of  affection.  His  cup  of  trembling  was  well 
nigh  full — the  corsair  of  the  wrathful  billows,  was 
already  reeling  in  the  circ'.es  of  the  vortex  awaiting  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 

JOSKFHINE   UNDECEIVBD. HER   AKKE8T. DESCaiPTION    OF    THB     SOENB.— 

THE    PRISON. HOETENSE   AND  EUGENE. JOSEPHINe's  COMPOSURE. HER 

KINDNESS    TO    THE     PRISONERS. CORRESPONDENCE   WITH     BEAtTHARNAIS 

RENEWED. ROMANTIC  STORY. PRISON  HORRORS. BEAUHARNAIs'  IN- 
TEREST IN  THE  YODNO  MANIAC. RETURNING  HOPE. LEVITY  OF  PRIS- 
ONERS.— Josephine's  maternal   character. — Robespierre's   policy. 

THE   INTERPOSITION   OF    FRIENDS. JOSEPHINE's   APPEAL    TO    SIGAS.— 

RESULT. MEETING  OF  BEAUHARNAIS  AND  JOSEPHINE. CRISIS  IN  DES- 
TINY.  LAST  HOURS  OF  BEAUHARNAIS. HIS  EXECUTION. RELICS  UNEX- 
PECTEDLY    RECEIVED     BY   JOSEPHINE. HER     DISTRESS     AND    DANGER. 

CHEERED   BY   THE    PROPHECY  OF  EUPHEMIA. CIRCUMSTANCES  OK  ROBES- 

FIERRE's    death. LIBERATION   OF  JOSEPHINE. INTEREST   IN    HER    CHIL 

DREN. FAMINE. DOMESTIO  SUFFERING. SURVEY    OF   THE   REVOLUTIOH 

— BEAUHARNAIS  FAMILY  TOWARDS  THE   CLOSE   OF  THE  TEAK    1*795. 

During  the  interlude  of  hope,  Josephine  wrote  to  her 
husband,  breathing  encouragement  and  the  affection 
of  a  true  woman's  heart  in  every  line.  She  referred  to 
a  pamphlet  which  about  this  time  appeared,  condemn- 
ing the  severity  of  the  Committee,  and  intimating  a 
restoration  of  ancient  customs,  written  by  Desmoulins, 
himself  soon  after  a  victim  to  the  vengeance  of  the 
chief,  who  permitted  him  to  write  and  live  no  longer 
than  might  subserve  his  designs. 

The  infidelity  of  Robespierre  also,  it  seems,  about 
this  time  assumed  the  phase  of  Deism  ;  which  she  re- 
garded as  indicative  of  slumbering  humanity  awaking 
to  activity.    But  Beauhamais  understood  the  Revolu- 


64  LIFE   OF  JOSKPHINB. 

tion  better  than  his  faithful  wife,  and  discerned  beneath 
a  seeming  tranquillity,  the  unsubdued  elements,  whose 
open  war  would  soon  again  pour  their  fury  upon  the 
heads  of  those  enrolled  on  the  list  of  proscription  or 
suspicion.  He  replied  to  her  note  of  gratulation  in  the 
following  emphatic  language  : — 

DE    BEAUHARNAIS    TO  JOSEPHINE. 

"  My  poor  friend,  what  an  error  is  thine  !  Hope  de- 
ludes you  ;  but  in  the  times  wherein  we  live  hope  dis- 
appoints and  betrays.  I  have  read  with  attention  the 
work  of  Desmoulins :  it  is  the  production  of  an  honest 
man,  but  a  dupe.  He  wrote,  you  say,  to  the  dictation 
of  Robespierre  :  it  is  probable  ;  but  after  having  urged 
him  thus  far,  the  tyrant  will  sacrifice  him.  I  know 
that  determined  man :  he  will  not  retreat  before  any 
difficulty  ;  and,  to  secure  the  triumph  of  his  detestable 
system,  he  will  even,  if  need  be,  play  the  part  of  a  man 
of  feeling,  Robespierre,  in  the  conviction  of  his  pride, 
believes  himself  called  to  regenerate  France;  and  his 
views  are  short-sighted,  and  his  heart  cold  :  he  con- 
ceives of  radical  regeneration  only  as  a  washing  in 
blood.  It  is  the  easiest  mode  of  reform,  for  the  victims 
are  penned,  and  the  butcher  has  merely  to  extend  his 
hand,  and  drag  them  to  the  slaughter-house.  Some, 
however,  before  expiring,  had  raised  a  cry  of  lamenta- 
tion, and  this  note  the  credulous  Camilc  is  employed  to 
repeat,  in  order  to  try  conclusions  with  opinion. 
Whatever  may  be  his  object,  it  will  incur  opposition, 


Line   OF  JOSEPHIKE.  tt 

which  will  be  wrested  by  the  tyrant  into  a  cause  for 
the  sacrifice  of  new  victims.  Such  is  the  grand  out- 
line  of  his  policy. 

"  I  grieve,  my  dear  Josephine,  to  destroy  your  heart's 
illusion  ;  but  how  can  I  entertain  it,  who  have  viewed 
too  closely  the  manoeuvres  of  tyranny  ?  When  we 
are  unable  to  oppose  to  despotism  a  power  capable  of 
crushing  it,  there  remains  but  one  possibility  of  resist- 
ance, namely,  to  receive  its  inflictions  with  a  virtue 
which  may  cover  it  with  dishonor.  Those  who  come 
after  us  will  at  least  profit  by  our  example,  and  the 
legacy  of  the  proscribed  will  not  be  lost  to  humanity." 

Scarcely  had  Josephine  perused  these  warnings  of 
impending  danger,  before  they  proved  to  be  the  tocsin 
of  a  darker  calamity,  that  brought  her  beneath  the  very 
shadow  of  the  guillotine.  She  was  thrown  into  prison, 
where  entire  families  were  pining  i*i  unpitied  wretch- 
edness, a  fate  which  she  might  have  anticipated  long 
before,  but  for  a  soul  buoyant  and  hopeful,  and  full  of 
that  kindness  which  "  thinketh  no  evil."  Her  disinter- 
ested devotion  to  her  family,  appears  finely  in  the  letter 
written  immediately  after  the  sad  event.  How  sweet- 
ly Hortense  returns  a  mother's  love,  and  even  in  her 
dreams  directs  the  weary  spirit  to  the  only  source  of 
help  and  composure  amid  the  beatings  of  the  tempest. 

JOSEPHINE    TO    MADAM    F.    BEAUHARVAI3. 

*'  I  commence  this  letter  at  a  venture,  and  without 
knowing  if  it  will  reach  you.     On  Tuesday  last  Nevil's 


66  UFS  OF  JOSSPHmE. 

mother  entered  my  apartment  with  an  air  of  anxiety, 
and  even  grief,  on  her  countenance..  My  mind  revert- 
ed to  her  son.  'I  do  not  weep  for  him,'  said  tiie  good 
woman,  sobbing  aloud  as  she  spoke  ;  '  though  he  be  in 
secret  confinement,  I  have  no  fears  for  his  life  ;  he  be- 
longs to  a  class  whose  members  are  pardoned,  or  rather 
overlooked  ;  others  are  more  exposed.'  'Others!'  In- 
stantly my  thoughts  were  at  the  Luxembourg.  '  Has 
Alexander  been  called  before  the  tribunal  ?'  exclaimed 
I !  'Be  comforted,  the  viscount  is  well.'  I  could  then 
think  of  no  one  for  whom  to  feel  alarm.  The  kind- 
hearted  creature  proceeded,  with  many  precautions,  to 
inform  me  that  she  alluded  to  myself  I  immediately 
became  tranquil.  After  having  trembled  for  all  that 
we  love,  my  God !  how  delightful  to  have  to  fear  only 
for  one's  self! 

"  Yesterday  morning  I  received  an  anonymous  let- 
ter, advertising  me  of  danger.  I  could  have  fled  ;  but 
whither  retire  without  compromising  my  husband  ? 
Decided  thus  to  await  the  storm,  I  sat  down  with  my 
children,  and  in  their  innocent  caresses  could  almost 
have  forgotten  my  misfortunes,  if  their  very  presence 
had  not  more  forcibly  recalled  the  absence  of  their 
father.  Sleep  stole  them  from  my  arms,  which  at  such 
a  moment  folded  them,  as  if  instinctively,  in  a  more 
tender  embrace.  Alas  !  the  love  which  unites  a  mother 
to  her  offspring  has  its  superstitions  also  :  and  I  know 
not  what  invincible  presentiment  overcame  me  with 
vague  terror.  Judge,  if,  thus  left  quite  alone,  I  could 
banish  this  painful  sentiment.     Yet  Heaven  is  witness, 


UPB  OF  JOSEPHnTK.  ft 

thai  the  three  cherished  beings  who  constitute  my 
whole  happiness,  occasion  likewise  my  sole  pain.  How 
think  of  myself  when  they  are  threatened  ? 

"  I  continued  plunged  in  these  reflections,  when  a 
loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  outer  door  of  the  house. 
I  perceived  that  my  hour  was  come,  and,  finding  the  re- 
quisite courage  in  the  very  consciousness  that  the  blow 
was  inevitable,  I  resigned  myself  to  endurance.  While 
the  tumult  continued  increasing,  I  passed  into  my  chil- 
dren's apartment ;  they  slept !  and  their  peaceful 
slumber,  contrasted  with  their  mother's  trouble,  made 
me  weep.  I  impressed  upon  my  daughter's  foreliead, 
alas!  perhaps  my  last  kiss;  she  felt  the  maternal 
tears,  and  though  still  asleep,  clasped  her  arms  round 
my  neck,  whispering,  in  broken  murmurs,  '  Come  to 
bed,  fear  nothing ;  they  shall  not  take  you  away  this 
night.     I  have  prayed  to  God  for  you.' 

"  Meanwhile,  a  crowd  had  entered  my  sitting-room, 
and  there,  at  the  head  of  ferocious  and  armed  men,  I 
found  the  same  president  already  named,  whom  very 
weakness  renders  inhuman,  and  whose  sloth  favors  his 
prepositions  against  the  accused.  These  prejudices, 
80  far  as  concerned  me,  were  deemed  by  him  sufficient 
warranty  for  ray  arrest ;  without  examination,  as 
without  probability,  I  saw  that  he  firmly  believed  in 
what  atrocious  ignorance  has  termed  the  conspiracy  of 
the  Luxembourg.  I  spare  you  needless  details;  already 
have  I  been  forced  to  impart  too  many  sad  ones.  Let 
it  suffice  to  know,  that  seals  being  placed  upon  every 
article  with  lock  and  key,  I  was  conducted  to  the 


6#  LIFE  OF  JOSKPHIKB. 

house  of  detention  at  the  Carmelites.  Oh,  what 
shudderings  came  over  me  on  crossing  that  tlireshold, 
still  humid  with  blood !  Ah !  my  beloved  aunt,  for 
what  outrages  are  not  thos&men  prepared  who  did  not 
punish  the  execrable  crimes  committed  here !" 

Josephine's  prison  "at  the  Carmelites,"  was  a  con- 
vent distinguished  in  the  Reign  of  Terror,  for  its  heca- 
tombs  of  the  eight  thousand  slain  during  four  days  of 
execution  at  the  hands  of  an  infatuated  mob.  Gloomy 
days!  when  women  rolled  their  sleeves  for  human 
butchery,  and  smiled  at  the  havoc  which  drenched  the 
dungeon-floor  with  blood,  and  awakened  the  perpetual 
and  dismal  echoes  of  dying  agony. 

We  can  hardly  appreciate  the  heroism  of  charactei 
which  sustained  this  fair  victim,  away  from  every 
pleasant  association,  and  surrounded  with  the  stains  of 
that  general  assassination ;  while  her  husband  and 
offspring  were  at  the  mercy  of  excited  enemies.  How 
marvellous  often  the  different  phases  of  destiny !  A 
dismal,  bloody  cell,  and  a  dazzling  throne— such  the 
words  that  might  have  been  traced  in  the  crimson 
mould  upon  those  dreary  walls,  as  a  brief  memoir  of 
the  captive. 

Hortense  and  Eugene  left  alone  in  the  solitude  of  a 
great  city,  which  heeded  not  the  friendless  and  suffer- 
ing, were  thrown  upon  their  youthful  resources  for 
escape  from  their  night  of  desolation.  A  reckless 
crowd  and  the  prison-pile  were  near — the  mansion  of 
the  benevolent  Madam  F.  Beauharnais  in  the  distance 
— the  prospect  of  access  to  either  seemed  equally  hope- 


LIFB  OF  JOSEPHINE.  $• 

less.  Bui  never  does  the  influence  of  early  culture 
appear  more  decidedly  than  in  circumstances  like  these ; 
when  the  want  of  experience  and  mature  judgment 
throws  the  mind  back  upon  the  counsels  of  parental 
love.  After  various  devices,  they  enlisted  the  mother 
of  Nevil  in  their  behalf;  she  transmitted  intelligence 
of  their  unnatural  orphanage  to  the  amiable  relative 
residing  in  the  country,  who  soon  conveyed  them  to 
her  domain.  Josephine  was  immediately  informed  of 
their  safety,  as  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  a 
lady  in  London,  pleasantly  shows,  while  it  indicates 
also  a  sensible  view  of  life,  and  a  sublime  calmness  of 
spirit. 

"  Let  me  place  before  you,  my  dear  fiiend,  two  con- 
trasts, which  we  but  seldom  remark,  though  they 
present  themselves  every  day ;  and  of  which  I  have  a 
fancy  to  talk  with  you  for  a  moment.  Good  news,  last 
evening,  of  my  children — to-day,  hopes  in  my  husband's 
affairs  :  what  more  favorable  to  appetite,  to  sleep,  and 
to  good-humor  ?  Tltis,  mine  is  not  so  very  sour  ;  and 
that  it  may  become  altogether  agreeable,  I  set  about 
writing  to  you. 

"  You  are  young,  rich,  handsome,  witty,  adored  by 
an  amiable  husband,  and  courted  by  a  circle  where 
your  talents  are  applauded  and  enjoyed ;  why,  then, 
are  you  not  happy  ?  I  possess  little  fortune,  still  less 
beauty,  no  pretensions,  few  hopes  ;  how  then  am  I  able 
to  taste  some  feficity?  Grave  philosophers  might 
perhaps  enter  into  lengthy  discussion,  in  order  to 
resolve  the  question      The  problem  would  become  still 


76  LIFB  OP  JOSEPHEfE. 

more  complicated  were  I  to  add — the  one  lives  in  the 
land  of  independence  and  of  liberty — ^yet  she  weeps  : 
the  other  vegetates  in  a  region  of  servitude — and. 
though  in  prison,  is  yet  tranquil.  To  explain  this 
diversity  by  difference  of  characters,  is  rather  to  post- 
pone the  explanation  than  to  remove  the  difficulty  ;  for 
whence  arises  the  difference  of  character  ? 

"My  dear  Clara  obeys  the  impulse  of  her  heart 
when  she  recounts  to  me  sorrows  which  she  exagger- 
ates :  I,  on  my  part,  yield  to  the  dictates  of  mine  while 
entertaining  her  with  what  another  would  call  pains, 
but  which  two  days  of  slight  hope,  springing  up  once 
more  in  my  breast,  has  transformed  into  pleasures. 

"  Know  you,  my  beloved  friend,  what  it  is  that  in  a 
place  such  as  this,  creates  unceasingly  those  pleasures 
which  are  almost  always  soothing,  sometimes  even 
positive  happiness  ? — two  trifling  combinations  which 
concurred  fortuitously  ;  namely,  a  parody  of  life  in  the 
great  world,  and  the  simplicity  of  private  retirement, 
*  *  *  *  ^  *  * 

"  Among  the  hundred  and  sixty  captives  composing 
our  establishment,  five  or  six  private  societies  have 
been  formed  through  resemblance  of  individual  opin- 
ions and  character.  Some  others  there  are,  still  more 
closely  associated  by  the  most  tender  affections,  and 
these,  isolated  and  silent,  mix  little  with  the  pleasures 
of  the  rest,  which  they  never  disturb.  As  for  me,  in- 
dependently of  a  number  of  ccquaintances  and  friends 
whom  1  have  recovered,  I  see  everybody  and  every- 
where meet  with  hearts  to  console  and  misfortunes  in 


LIFK  OF  JOSEPHUnt.  Tl  ^ 

which  to  sympathize.  This  reminds  me  that  you,  my  *^ 
dear  Clara,  believe  yourself  to  be  among  the  unfortunate 
and  under  that  title  have  a  right  to  what  J  lavish  upon 
others.  To-day,  however,  you  shall  have  no  consola- 
tion beyond  the  certainty  of  an  approaching  melioration 
in  my  destiny.  Is  not  that  sufficient  to  render  youra 
happy,  at  least  for  some  moments  ?  Need  I  assure  you 
of  my  participation  in  your  afflictions,  imaginary 
though  they  be  ?  and  know  you  not,  that  while  you 
suffer  I  suffer  also  ?  The  greatest  of  all  misfortunes  is 
to  doubt  that  which  we  love  to  think  true,  and  such 
sorrow  at  least  we  shall  never  experience,  so  far  as 
depends  upon  each  other.  Adieu,  my  friend.  Courage  ! 
Must  that  word  be  pronounced  by  her  who  languishes 
in  prison?  Ought  she  not  rather  to  preserve  for  her- 
self the  exhortations  which  she  sends  to  you?  My 
children  are  well^De  Beauharnais'  affair  assumes  a 
more  favorable  turn — why,  then,  should  my  fortitude 
fail  ?     Once  more  adieu." 

Josephine  by  acts  of  kindness  and  looks  of  sympathy 
toWards  those  confined  with  her,  won  that  affection 
cherished  by  all  who  came  within  the  cn^cle  of  influ- 
ence, which  like  a  charmed  atmosphere  always  attend- 
ed her.  There  was  a  graceful  freedom  from  all  osten- 
tation of  manner,  that  made  her  attentions  doubly 
grateful  to  the  suffering — and  a  true  feminine  delicacy 
of  feeling,  which  rendered  her  conversation  charming 
to  the  humblest  admirer. 

Correspondence  was  permitted  under  inspection,  be- 
tween her  and  Beauharnais,  through  the  faithful  Nevil, 


V3  LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE. 

who  had  obtained  his  liberty.  She  describes,  with, 
great  simplicity,  an  affair  of  romantic  interest  connect- 
ed with  her  prison  friends,  and  sketches  vividly  the 
sanguinary  events  that  might  have  filled  the  imagina- 
tion of  a  superstitious  person  with  a  thousand  ghostly 
visions,  and  unearthly  sounds  of  anguish  and  impre- 
cation. 

JOSEPHINE    TO    BEAUHARNAIS. 

"You  have  not  forgotten  the  unfortunate  village 
maiden  in  the  environs  of  Rouen,  who  being  abandon- 
ed by  her  lover,  became  insane,  and  wandered  about 
the  highways,  inquiring  of  every  traveller  concerning 
her  ungrateful  seducer.  The  good  Marsollier  caused 
us  to  shed  many  tears  when  he  related  some  years  ago 
the  misfortunes  of  the  poor,  forsaken  maniac  ;  and  our 
amiable  Dalayrac  has  rendered  them  familiar  to  the 
public  ear  by  verses  which  will  not  soon  be  forgotten. 
Well,  my  friend,  there  is  in  th^  house  a  youth,  who, 
with  even  greater  propriety  than  Nina,  might  become 
the  hero  of  a  drama.  He  is  an  English  boy,  named 
Tommy.  The  fatal  consequences  of  an  unfortunate 
passion  have  often  been  to  be  deplored,  which,  by  de- 
priving the  hapless  sufferer  of  reason,  takes  away  all 
feeling  of  sorrow ;  but  the  sentiment  of  gratitude  is 
rarely  so  profound  as  to  produce  the  same  effect.  The 
wretched  Tommy  is  a  touching  example  of  the  excess 
of  an  affection  of  which  much  is  said,  but  little  felt. 
This  history  struck  me  as  so  interesting  that  I  resolved 


LIFE   OP   JOSEPHIXE.  ^$ 

to  send  you  the  relation.  Your  heart  will  appreciate 
the  simple  recital ;  and,  by  occupying  you  for  a  few 
minutes  with  the  sorrows  of  others,  I  shall  beguile  you 
from  your  own.  To  lament  over  our  species,  to  give 
tears  to  their  griefs,  is,  alas !  the  sole  distinction  voucn- 
safed  in  a  season  of  trial. 

"  A  respectable  priest  of  St.  Sulpice  had  conceived 
an  affection  for  Tommy,  and  bestowed  upon  him  the 
principles  of  a  Christian  education  :  I  say  Christian,  in 
the  full  extent  of  the  word  ;  for  the  worthy  Abbe  Cap- 
deville,  equally  tolerant  as  pious,  made  the  youth  his 
pupil  only,  nor  once  thought  of  rendering  him  his  pros- 
elyte ;  persuaded  that  religion  in  a  pure  mind  will  in- 
sinuate itself  gently  by  example,  and  can  never  be 
prescribed  as  maxims.  Those  which  he  inculcated 
upon  Tommy  were  drawn  from  a  universal  charity,  of 
which  he  exhibited  meanwhile  an  affecting  example  in 
his  own  practice.  A  witness  of  numerous  benefac- 
tions, distributed  with  no  less  kindness  than  discern- 
njent.  Tommy  could  not  doubt  that  th^first  foundation 
of  religion  is  to  be  laid  in  charity.  He  was  in  like 
manner  convinced  that  indulgence  and  toleration 
must  have  been  ordained  by  God,  whom  he  beheld  so 
well  manifested  in  the  benevolent  Abbe.  This  priest 
reserved  for  himself  nothing  beyond  the  simplest  neces- 
saries :  lavish  towards  others,  he  refused  to  himself 
whatever  could  not  be  regarded  as  indispensable  at  an 
age  so  advanced  as  his.  The  calmness  and  placidity 
of  his  countenance  testified  that  his  heart  had  ever 
been  tranquil.    Never  did  a  shade  appear  on  his  vis- 


i4  UFB   OP   JOSEPHINE. 

age,  save  when  he  found  it  impossible  to  be  of  service 
to  a  brother,  or  soothe  the  remorse  of  a  guilty  con- 
science. 

"  Tommy,  gifted  with  quick  penetration  and  lively 
sensibility,  conceived  for  his  benefactor  an  attachment 
so  much  the  more  ardent  that  he  had  previously  never 
known  any  one  to  love !  He  had  been  deprived  of  a 
mother's  tenderness  before  he  could  feel  his  loss  ;  and 
he  was  not  more  than  eight  years  old  when  Providence 
threw  him  in  the  way  of  this  protecting  angel.  An 
orphan,  forsaken  by  all  the  world,  he  had  been  receiv- 
ed, brought  up,  and  educated  by  M.  Capdeville.  To 
obey  the  latter  appeared  so  delightful  to  him,  that  he 
succeeded  in  all  things ;  it  sufficed  that  his  father — for 
so  the  boy  named  the  good  priest — directed  him  to  do 
anything,  in  which  case  an  indefatigable  perseverance 
enabled  him  to  surmount  every  difficulty.  This  amiable 
and  excellent  youth  displayed  a  remarkable  aptitude 
for  music.  His  voice,  harmonious,  though  not  bril- 
liant, accorded  With  several  different  instruments  ;  and 
his  daily  progress  on  the  harp  permitted  the  anticipa- 
tion that,  by-and-by,  he  would  be  able  to  impart  to 
others  what  he  himself  so  well  knew.  M.  Capdeville 
being  a  man  of  great  learning,  received  as  pupils  the 
children  of  several  distinguished  professors,  who  in 
turn,  took  pleasure  in  teaching  the  protege  of  their 
friend.  Thus,  without  expending  what  he  conceived 
to  be  the  property  of  the  poor,  the  worthy  man  found 
means  of  procuring  the  best  masters  for  his  dear 
Tommy  ;   and  so  modest  himself  in  everything  per- 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPUmS.  ^6 

sonal,  he  enjoyed  with  pride  the  success  of  this  child 
of  his  adoption.  Alas !  the  happiness  which  he  thus 
experienced  was  destined  to  be  of  short  duration ! 

"The  consequences  of  the  fatal  10th  of  August, 
crowded  the  prisons  with  almost  every  priest  who  had 
not  taken  the  constitutional  oaths.  The  Abbe  Cap- 
deville,  persuaded  that  churchmen  ought  to  obey  the 
powers  that  be,  according  to  the  precepts  of  the  gos- 
pel, had  given  the  required  pledges,  and  submitting,  if 
not  in  heart,  at  least  to  authority,  had  consequently  no 
reason  to  fear  any  measure  against  himself.  But  how 
abandon  the  venerable  Archbishop  of  Aries,  his  di- 
ocesan and  constant  patron?  In. consequence  of  this 
devotedness,  the  revolutionists  of  the  section,  who  had 
seen,  and  wished  to  see,  only  an  accomplice  in  a  grate- 
ful friend,  pronounced  his  imprisonment  in  the  Carmel- 
ites. Here,  some  days  afterward,  by  various  means, 
and  after  much  difficulty,  Tommy  contrived  to  join  his 
benefactor ;  for,  at  a  time  when  a  word,  a  look  even, 
sufficed  to  plunge  the  individual  into  a  dungeon,  the 
poor  youth  was  denied  the  privilege,  which  he  solicited 
with  ardor,  of  serving  in  his  turn  the  old  man  who  had 
watched  over  his  childhood.  The  heartless  men  who 
refused  for  some  time  his  request,  termed  their  denial  a 
favor,  while  it  was  but  cruelty.  One  of  the  members, 
who  had  formerly  been  under  obligations  to  M.  Capde- 
ville,  at  length  obtained  an  order,  and  Tommy,  to  hia 
inexpressible  joy,  was  shut  up  with  his  benefactor. 

"  I  wish  to  spare  you,  my  friend,  the  description 

which  has  since  been  given  me  of  the  horrible  massa- 
D 


^6  LIPE  OF  jrosEPHnrE. 

ere  which  took  place  on  the  2d  of  September  in  this 
prison — a  spot  forever  memorable  by  reason  of  the 
sublime  resignation  of  the  numerous  victims  there  sac- 
rificed. The  chapel  was  particularly  selected  by  the 
murderers  as  the  scene  of  death  for  the  clergy.  They 
seemed  to  have  been  dragged  thither  in  order  that  their 
last  look  might  rest  upon  Him  who,  persecuted  like  His 
servants,  had  taught  them  to  forgive ;  and  the  last  sighs 
of  these  unfortunate  men  respired  in  feeble  hymns  of 
praise.  They  were  actually  praying  for  their  assassins 
when  the  frantic  mob  burst  into  the  sacred  place !  The 
Archbishop  of  Aries,  seated  in  a  chair  on  account  of 
his  great  age,  was  giving  his  last  benediction  to  his 
kneeling  companions ;  Capdeville,  on  his  knees  also, 
was  reciting  the  prayers  for  those  in  peril — the  respon- 
ses within  were  given  as  from  a  choir  of  martyrs,  and 
without,  in  the  savage  vociferations  of  a  furious  crowd 
eager  to  shed  blood. 

"  Tommy,  dreadfully  agitated,  traversed  the  whole 
building,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  stopping  in  order 
to  listen,  weeping  at  intervals,  and  uttering  mournful 
cries.  Some  neighbors,  whom  a  courageous  pity  had 
emboldened  to  enter,  wished  to  save  him  and  favored 
his  escape  ;  but  returning  to  his  master,  or  rather  friend, 
he  took  a  station  by  his  side,  and  refused  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  him.  The  ruffians,  having  forced  open  the 
door,  and  broken  the  windows,  penetrated  by  several 
points  at  once  :  the  pavements  of  the  chapel,  and  the 
steps  of  the  sanctuary,  were  speedily  inundated  with 
blood.    Capdeville,  struck  immediately  after  the  Bishop, 


LIFE  OP  JOSEPHIKE.  fT 

fell  at  his  feet,  and  extending  a  mangled  hand  to 
Tommy,  expired  as  he  looked  upon  him.  That  look 
was  a  last  blessing. 

"  Already  the  poor* youth,  or  rather  child — for  he  is 
not  yet  sixteen — exhibited  unequivocal  symptoms  of 
alienation  of  mind ;  on  the  death  of  his  friend  a  fixed 
insanity  appeared.  The  unfortunate  Abbe,  who  had 
knelt  apart  from  the  companions  of  his  martyrdom, 
having  been  engaged  in  officiating,  had  fallen  with  his 
head  supported  on  the  upper  step  of  the  altar,  and  his 
body  extended  across  the  others :  the  left  hand  was 
pressed  against  the  heart,  and  the  right,  as  I  have  al- 
ready said,  extended  toward  his  pupil.  The  blow  that 
had  deprived  him  of  life  had  been  so  rapid  in  its  oper- 
ation, that  death  had  not  efiaced  his  habitual  expres- 
sion of  benevolence  which  lightened  his  placid  counte- 
nance. He  seemed  to  smile  and  slumber ;  by  some 
change  in  the  reasoning  faculties,  Tommy  became  con- 
vinced that  his  friend  slept.  Instantly  as  if  by  enchant- 
ment the  scene  of  slaughter  disappeared  from  before 
his  vision ;  he  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the  bleeding 
corpse,  waiting  its  awaking.  After  three  hours  of 
watching,  and  as  the  sun  sank  beneath  the  horizon, 
Tommy  went  to  seek  his  harp,  and  again  sat  down 
beside  the  remains  of  his  friend,  playing  melancholy 
airs,  in  order  to  hasten  his  awaking,  whibh  appeared 
to  him  to  be  long  in  taking  place.  While  thus  em- 
ployed, sleep  stole  over  his  own  frame,  and  the  chari- 
table hands  which  removed  from  the  despoilers  the 
bodies  of  the  martyrs  carried  away  Tommy,  and  laid 


t8  LITE  OF  JOSKPHIKE. 

him  on  his  bed.  There  he  remained  eight-and-forty 
hours  in  a  kind  of  lethargy,  whence,  however,  he 
awoke,  with  all  the  appearances  of  soundness  of  body 
and  mind.  But,  if  health  had  been  restored,  reason 
had  fled  forever. 

"In  commiseration  of  his  pious  madness,  a  free  asy- 
lum has  been  granted  to  him  in  this  house,  where  he 
passes  the  day  in  silence  till  each  afternoon  at  three 
o'clock.  The  moment  that  hour  strikes,  Tommy,  who 
ordinarily  walks  slowly,  runs  to  seek  his  harp,  upon 
which,  leaning  against  the  ruins  of  the  altar  still  re- 
maining in  the  chapel,  he  plays  his  friend's  favorite 
airs.  The  expression  of  his  countenance  on  these  oc- 
casions announces  hope ;  he  seems  to  expect  a  word 
of  approbation  from  him  whose  remembrance  he  cher- 
ishes ;  this  hope  and  this  employment  continue  until 
six  o'clock,  when  he  leaves  off  abruptly,  saying,  '  Not 
yet ! — but  to-morrow  he  will  speak  to  his  child.'  Htj 
then  kneels  down,  prays  fervently,  rises  with  a  sigh, 
and  retires  softly  upon  tiptoe,  that  he  may  not  disturb 
the  imaginary  repose  of  his  benefactor.  The  same 
affecting  scene  takes  place  day  after  day  ;  and  during 
the  intervals,  the  poor  boy's  faculties  seem  completely 
absorbed,  till  the  fatal  hour  calls  forth  the  same  hopes, 
destined  forever  to  be  chilled  by  the  same  disappoirit- 
ment.  ^ 

"Though  a  prisoner  within  the  same  building,  I  had 
not  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  unfortunate  youth. 
I  have  just  for  the  first  time  looked  upon  that  counte- 
nance whereon  are  depicted  so  many  griefs  and  virtues. 


LIFE   OP  JOSEPHINa.  19 

I  found  it  impossible  to  entertain  you  with  anything 
else  to-day.  Adieu,  lhenj,my  friend,  till  to-morrow  ; 
but  more  happy  than  Tommy,  I  am  certain  of  being 
able  to  repeat  to  the  object  of  my  solicitude  all  the  ten- 
derness with  which  he  inspires  me." 

There  cannot  be  a  more  touching  disclosure  of  a  pure 
philanthropy  and  disinterested  kindness  of  heart,  than 
this  littlfe  nlWFative.  And  were  it  not  for  a  native  flow 
of  animal  spirits,  and  familiarity  with  sad  reverses,  in 
a  period  of  wild  discord,  Josephine's  cheerful  interest 
in  the  happiness  of  others,  and  the  comparative  sang- 
froid of  Beauharnais,  amid  the  thickening  gloom  that 
to  every  observant  eye  hung  menacingly  on  the  future, 
would  be  marvellous.  He  enters  into  her  benevolent 
commiseration  of  Tommy,  with  a  delicacy  of  feeling 
and  sympathy,  which  shed  an  attractive  lustre  upon  his 
character,  and  afford,  in  the  subjoined  reply,  a  pleasing 
continuation  of  the  young  maniac's  history. 

BEAUHARNAIS    TO    JOSEPHINE. 

"Your  history,  my  beloved  friend,  is  extremely- 
touching,  and  little  Tommy  very  interesting.  After 
having  read  your  letter  more  than  once,  privately,  I 
communicated  it  to  our  circle,  and  each  like  myself, 
praised,  as  he  deserves,  the  poor  ^tim  of  the  noblest 
of  all  sentiments — that  is  to  say,  all  have  shed  tears 
over  his  misfortunes.  All  France  would  do  the  same 
were  the  circumstances  disclosed.  Ah !  how  he  merits 
to  be  known !     What  a  contrast  to  tlie  crimes  of  the 


80     '  UFX  OF  JOSSPniNK. 

age!  But  the  epochs  of  the  greatest  iniquities  are 
likewise  the  eras  of  the  loftiest  virtues,  and  for  the 
sake  of  example,  that  of  Tommy  ought  not  to  remain 
in  obscurity.  We  have  talents  here  which  will  find 
delight  in  holding  up  his  to  general  admiration.  One 
of  us  is  prepared  to  paint  the  portrait  of  your  Tommy  ; 
another  will  dedicate  his  literary  exertions  to  the  same 
pious  purpose  ;  and  this  little  monument,  <rfFered  with- 
out pretension  to  a  public  not  naturally  insensible, 
may,  perhaps,  lay  the  foundation  of  the  orphan's 
fortune. 

"  For  my  own  part,  I  shall  be  happy  to  contribute  to 
this  effect  by  attaching  the  forsaken  youth  to  the 
fortunes  of  our  son.  Eugene  bears  in  his  heart  the 
germ  of  every  virtue;  and  how  would  these  seeds  of 
goodness  be  ripened  into  activity  by  the  example  of 
one  who  had  carried  even  to  excess  the  affections  of 
attachment  and  gratitude  !  Do  not  lose  sight  of  this 
idea ;  it  will,  my  goad  Josephine,  accord  with  your 
benevolent  inclinations ;  and,  should  it  ever  be  realized, 
we  shall  have  gained,  from  the  most  painful  occurrences 
of  our  life,  the  rarest  of  all  monuments — the  most 
affecting  of  all  recollections. 

"My"  oppression  diminishes  daily;  there  remains 
only  a  severe  cold,  which  has  fixed  upon  my  chest, 
through  the  perpeUial  irritation  inseparable  from  my 
situation.  At  the  sight  of  the  doctor,  all  this  disappears  ; 
and  when  I  read  your  letters,  my  dear  Josephine,  I 
cannot  persuade  myself  but  that  I  am  happy !  When 
we  shall  once  more  be  reunited,  my  happiness  will  no 


LIFE    OF   JOSEPHINB.  SI 

longer  be  an  illusion,  and  you  will  be  of  the  same  mind 
for  you  will  feel  it  to  be  real." 

Josephine  attributed  this  returning  hope  of  a  reunion, 
to  the  effect  of  reading  of  the  "Old  Cordelier,"  a  work 
whose  appearance  was  hailed  by  the  victims  of  Robes- 
pierre, as  evidence  of  more  moderation  in  views,  and  a 
less  brutal  .policy  to  succeed  that  which  decimated 
France.  After  alluding  with  triumphant  anticipation 
to  the  new  ground  of  courage,  in  a  note  to  Beauharnais, 
she  casually  discloses  the  volatility  and  irreligion  of  the 
noblesse ;  showing  their  entire  incapacity  to  introduce 
a  better  order  of  things  in  government,  had  they 
attained  the  power.  While  lust,  blasphemy,  and  legal- 
med  murder,  were  filling  the  land  with  horrors  at 
which  the  civilized  world  stood  aghast,  and  executioners 
were  impatient  to  add  their  bodies  to  the  gladiatorial 
show,  these  captives  were  busy  with  the  plans  of 
extravagant  pleasure,  and  dreaming  only  of  the  sports 
of  the  turf,  and  the  excitement  of  the  chase.  In  her 
own  words :  "  One  half  of  our  captives  have  given 
orders  for  ffetes,  country  parties,  and  new  furniture. 
To-day,  Madam  de  S.  sent  for  a  famous  jockey,  with 
whom  she  has  concluded  a  treaty  for  replenishing  her 
stud ;  and  the  old  Du  Merbion,  with  whom  you  may 
recollect  having  hunted  at  Rainey,  has  ordered  from 
Scotland  six  couple  of  terriers,  such  as  were  never  seen 
in  France.  In  short,  projectors  of  all  descriptions  are 
retained  by  the  month;  and  when  we  do  get  out  I 
know  not  if  we  shall  find  a  morsel  of  food !  Nevil's 
mother  participates  in  our  hopes  and  our  joys ;  and 


8d  LIFB  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

you,  my  dear  Alexander,  you  must  not  destroy  them 
with  a  cruel  foresight — an  ill-founded  distrust,  and  all 
the  sinister  presentiments  inspired  by  too  much  experi- 
ence, by  the  remembrance  of  a  home,  and  the  aspect 
of  a  prison.  Till  we  meet,  my  beloved,  adieu;  I  do 
not  to-day  embrace  you  upon  cold  paper ;  for  I  hold 
myself  in  reserve  soon  to  lavish  upon  you  endearments 
like  my  affection — real." 

"  P.  S.  I  have  written  to  our  aunt,  imparting  the 
happy  news.  I  wrote  also  to  our  children,  and  have 
informed  Eugene  of  a  companion  worthy  of  him. 
Tommy  consents  to  live  with  us,  but  stipulates  one 
express  condition — namely,  that,  upon  the  second  day 
of  every  month,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  he 
shall  be  permitted  to  come  here,  and,  by  the  harmony 
of  his  notes,  charm  the  dreams  of  his  sleeping  friend 
during  the  whole  continuance  of  the  Revolution ! 
Poor  Tommy !  who  would  not  be  moved  by  a  delirium 
so  affecting !" 

This  postscript  is  the  last  glimpse  of  her  protege, 
Tommy;  the  effect  of  subsequent  release  upon  the 
helpless  one  among  thousands — his  wanderings  and 
death  are  unrecorded.  He  was  nevertheless  great  as 
the  greatest,  in  the  essential  elements  of  humanity,  and 
his  title  to  immortality  beyond  the  dread  theatre  of  his 
sufferings. 

Josephine  amused  herself  in  writing  to  her  husband 
and  children,  while  her  presence  and  goodness  shed  a 
beautiful  radiance  athwart  the  gloom  of  desponding 
spirits  in  that  prison,  and  formed  a  fine  contrast  with 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHUJE.  8l^ 

the  idiot  folly  and  sensuality  that  marked  the  character 
of  her  associates,  from  the  fashionable  walks  of  life. 
She  was  a  fond  mother,  and  yet  endowed  with  decision, 
whicii  never  sacrificed  principle,  and  propriety,  to 
parental  partiality.  There  is  a  delightful  illustration 
of  this  trait,  in  a  brief  letter  to  Hortense  after  an 
adventure  that  no  less  displayed  the  impulsive  ardor  of 
the  daughter,  who,  leaving  her  aunt  secretly  one 
morning,  rode  to  Paris,  thirty  miles,  with  a  market- 
man  ;  returning  the  following  day  without  having 
obtained  the  object  of  her  filial  flight. 

JOSEPHINE    TO    HORTENSB. 

"  I  should  be  entirely  satisfied  with  the  good  heart  of 
my  Hortense,  were  I  not  displeased  with  her  bad  head. 
How,  my  daughter,  is  it,  without  permission  from  your 
aunt,  that  you  have  come  to  Paris  ?  What  do  I  say  ? 
It  is  contrary  to  her  desire !  This  is  very  bad.  But 
it  was  to  see  me,  you  will  say.  You  ought  to  be  quite 
aware  that  no  one  sees  me  without  an  order,  to  obtain 
which  requires  both  means  and  precautions,  such  as 
poor  Victorine  is  little  able  to  take.  And,  besides,  you 
got  upon  M.  Darcet's  cart,  at  the  risk  of  incommoding 
him,  and  retarding  the  conveyance  of  his  merchandise. 
In  all  this  you  have  been  very  inconsiderate.  My 
child,  observe,  it  is  not  sufficient  to  do  good  ;  you  must 
also  do  that  good  properly.  At  your  age,  the  first  of  all 
virtues  is  confidence  and  docility  towards  your  rela- 
tions. T  am  therefore  obliged  to  tell  you,  that  I  prefer 
6  D* 


84  LIFIC  OF  JOSETHINX. 

* 

your  brother's  tranquil  attachment  to  your  misplaced 
warmth.  This,  however,  dogs  not  prevent  me  from 
embracing  you,  but  less  tenderly  than  I  shall  do  when 
I  have  learned  that  you  are  again  at  Fontainebleau  " 

This  reproof  almost  broke  Hortense's  sensitive  heart, 
soothed  only  by  the  renewed  affection  and  attentions 
of  her  guardian  aunt. 

Robespierre  was  still  apparently  relenting,  approving 
the  conservatism  of  the  "  Old  Cordelier,"  whose  publi- 
cation, after  all,  was  only  permitted  as  a  test  of  popular 
feeling.  And  when  he  saw  that  the  subsiding  swell  of 
madness  for  blood  was  slowly  sweepmg  down  upon  his 
throne  of  terror,  his  suspension  of  the  unsparing  havoc 
was  an  interlude  of  preparation  with  him — his  blows 
would  be  more  certain  when  his  eye  had  scanned  fully 
the  front  of  darkening  danger. 

But  Josephine  and  De  Beauharnais  both  cherished 
anticipations  of  release,  strengthened  by  the  interposi- 
tion of  friends  who  had  come  into  places  of  power. 
Cubieres  and  Sigas  were  principals  in  this  effort  to 
save  the  Viscount,  and  others  before  whom  he  would 
be  summoned  if  tried,  had  served  under  his  command 
in  the  army.  Sigas,  minister  of  war,  was  selected  to 
report  this  case  to  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety, 
which  drew  from  Josephine  a  communication  credita- 
ble alike  to  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  writer. 


% 


UFB  OF  JOSKPHmB.  86 


JOSEPHINE  TO  CITIZEN  PROSPER  8IGA8. 

J^CmzEN, — I  am  informed  that  you  have  been  era 
ployed  to  prepare  a  report,  to  be  presented  to  the  Com- 
mittee of  General  Safety,  on  the  afiair  of  General 
Beanharnais.  For  this  I  give  thanks  to  heaven  ;  and 
had  I  been  permitted  to  choose  my  judge,  that  choice 
would  have  fallen  upon  you.  I  had  heard  you  men- 
tioned, and  always  has  your  name  been  accompanied 
by  those  honorable  but  considerate  epithets  which  flat- 
tery can  never  invent,  which  can  be  inspired  by  grati- 
tude alone,  and  are  never  deceitful.  Subsequently 
chance,  or  rather  Providence,  became  less  severe  to- 
wards us — placed  me  in  momentary  correspondence 
with  you.  That  brief  space  sufficed  to  convince  me, 
that  the  gratitude  of  those  whom  you  have  obliged  is 
only  consistent  with  truth.  I  also  am  become  one  of 
those  whose  misfortunes  you  have  endeavored  to  miti- 
gate. I  have  to  unite  my  gratitude  to  that  of  the  many 
unfortunate  beings  whom  you  have  labored  to  render 
forgetful  of  their  calamities.  Nor  are  you  ignorant 
that  mine  increase  in  bitterness  each  day  that  passes 
away  Yidiile  my  husband  remains  in  prison  untried. 
For  it  is  no  longer  his  liberty  which  he  solicits — he  de- 
mands his  trial.  A  brave  soldier  has  a  right  to  this 
when  he  is  accused  of  a  crime  which  compromises  his 
honor. 

"  Alexander  de  Beauharnais  a  conspirator !     One  of 
the  founders  of  liberty  meditating  its  downfall!    He 


86"  LITE   OF  JOSETHrNE. 


4 


"who  among  a  hundred  others,  was  distinguished  as  a 
promoter  of  the  republic,  essaying  to  overturn  freedom  ! 
Citizen,  you  have  never  believed  the  accusation,  and 
those  who  have  brought  it  forward  believe  it  no  m§i'e 
than  you.  But  the  importance  lies  in  that  his  judges 
should  no  longer  give  credit  to  the  imputation.  Let 
them  listen  to  you,  and  they  will  be  persuaded.  Do 
not  tell  them,  however,  that  his  wife,  equally  innocent 
as  himself,  languishes  far  from  him,  under  other  bolts 
than  those  by  which  he  is  retained.  I  speak  of  myself 
only  to  enable  you  to  appreciate  the  injustice  done  to 
Alexander.  Forget  the  mother  persecuted,  and  her 
children  dispersed,  in  order  to  think  solely  of  the  father 
and  husband,  or  rather  of  the  soldier  and  citizen,,  wor- 
thy of  recovering  honor  and  liberty." 

The  appeal  was  successful  in  obtaining  an  interview 
between  Josephine  and  her  husband  by  his  removal  to 
the  office  of  the  Committee.  The  meeting  was  ar- 
ranged Y^'ilhout  the  knowledge  of  either,  with  the  fur- 
ther design  of  securing  the  main  object  if  possible. 

She  was  brought  from  prison  and  conducted  to  an 
ante-room,  there  to  await  the  summons  for  trial  before 
the  tribunal  of  mock-justice.  While  in  an  agony  of 
suspense  in  the  very  grasp  of  the  foe,  suddenly  De 
Beauharnais  was  ushered  into  the  apartment.  The 
mutual  surprise  was  overwhelming,  Ber.uharnais, 
pale  and  haggard  from  confinement,  fixed  his  brilliant 
eye  upon  the  beautiful  being  before  him,  in  amaze- 
ment, while  with  mantling  cheek  and  quivering  lip, 
after  a  momentary  pause,   she  rushed   to  his  arms. 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE.  87 

They  wept  with  rapture,  and  when  the  emotion  which 
effaced  the  gloomy  record  of  "  a  whole  year  of  misery ! 
was  past,  and  thought  returned  to  the  future,  a  ray  of 
light  played  upon  the  horizon  of  despair  to  the  gaze  of 
the  Viscount,  whose  hastening  ordeal  would  blot  it  out 
forever.  Sigas  broke  the  charm  of  this  unexpected 
hour  of  bliss,  by  entering  to  announce  the  removal 
from  office  of  reporter  Louis  of  the  Lower  Rhine,  who 
was  kindly  disposed  toward  the  family  of  Beauharnais  ; 
and  consequently  to  urge  an  examination  upon  the 
new  officer  of  the  Committee,  would  be  inexpedient, 
perhaps  defeat  the  noble  purpose  of  friends  who  had 
made  the  encouraging  movement. 

Josephine  writes : — "  I  also  resolved  to  profit  by  this 
information,  and  promised  to  solicit  no  audience  till  a 
more  favorable  moment.  This  occasion  had  indeed, 
been  far  from  unpropitious,  since  it  had  brought  us  to- 
gether. But  in  what  a  place !  and  at  what  a  crisis ! 
I  know  not  what  my  poor  Alexander  thought  of  me ; 
for  my  part,  I  found  him  very  pale,  very  thin,  and 
sadly  changed.  As  to  his  disposition,  that  is  ever  the 
same ;  he  is  the  most  amiable  and  the  noblest  of  men. 
Resignation,  courage,  heroic  sentiments,  and  conduct 
still  more  magnanimous,  such  are  the  principles  of  his 
character.  He  had  wept  with  joy  on  once  more  be- 
holding me ;  when  it  had  become  necessary  that  we 
should  separate,  he  was  calm  and  collected.  He  em- 
braced me  more  like  a  friend  than  a  husband,  and  rec- 
ommended our  children  to  my  care.  Such  tranquillity 
beconnes  innocence  like  his.     Now  I  grieve  that  these 


88  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINB. 

people  of  the  Committee  did  not  see  him.     Could  they 
have  resisted  the  ascendency  of  his  virtues  ?" 

This  trusting  wife,  with  all  her  experience  in  scenes 
of  human  cruelty — her  sorrows  inflicted  by  the  fero- 
city of  the  gory  tribunal,  did  not  fathom  the  caverns 
of  iniquity  in  the  bosoms  of  those  who  held  the  reins 
that  guided  the  car  of  Reason  over  the  corpse  of  every 
opposing  citizen,  whether  prince  or  beggar. 
9i  Her  next  intelligence  of  Beauharnais  was  the  sen-  ■ 

tence  on  the  6th  Thermidor,  (July  23d,  1794,)  and  its 
execution  on  the  succeeding  day.  Two  days  later 
Robespierre  fell  amid  the  execrations  of  the  mob,  just 
in  time  to  avert  the  lifted  stroke  from  the  head  of  Jose- 
phine. So  does  destiny  hinge  on  moments,  and  lie 
coiled  in  a  passing  event,  that  with  a  little  change  in 
ts  relation  to  the  individual,  it  would  have  given  a  dif- 
ferent aspect  to  time  and  eternity.  Had  Robespierre 
been  slain  a  few  hours  sooner,  Beauharnais  had  lived, 
and  "the  first  wife  of  Napoleon,"  never  been  added  to 
the  honors  of  Josephine — had  the  tyrant  been  spared 
till  another  morning,  she  would  have  been  thrown  with 
her  beheaded  companion  into  the  pit  of  the  undistin- 
guished dead. 

When  apprized  of  his  doom,  Beauharnais  was  calm, 
for  the  event  had  been  expected,  till  the  apprehension 
assumed  the  form  of  a  presentiment,  and  prepared  his 
mind  for  the  time  of  sacrifice.  It  would  seem  that  he 
was  a  believer  in  Revelation,  and  borrowed  sustaining 
hope  from  its  sacred  page,  intelligently  appreciating 
the  solemnity  of  entering  "  within  the  veil"  of  com- 


LIFB  OF  JOSEPHINE.  89 

pleted  destiny,  and  of  reckoning  with  a  Judge  whose 
decisions  are  unerring  and  final. 

During  this  night  of  contemplation,  his  last  on  earth, 
he  wrote  a  parting  message  to  Josephine,  interrupted 
by  the  messengers  of  death,  from  whom  he  purchased 
a  lock  of  his  own  hair,  shorn  off  in  accordance  with 
usage,  before  execution,  to  expose  fully  the  victim's 
neck  to  the  fatal  axe.  What  a  concentration  of  life 
into  that  brief  period !  The  past  lay  behind  him  with 
its  bitter  and  pleasant  memories — the  present  like  the 
last  goblet  of  water  pressed  to  the  parched  lip  of  the 
perishing  for  thirst,  each  drop  a  treasure,  was  counted 
by  moments — and  before  his  swimming  eye  lay  a  cul- 
prit's grave,  and  the  vast  shadows  of  a  realm  un- 
known. 

Enclosing  the  memorial  of  affection  in  the  letter,  he 
was  hurried  away  to  the  guillotine,  and  for  a  while 
silence  rested  on  the  closing  scene  of  his  tragical  ca- 
reer as  a  member  of  the  Gironde.  At  length  the  relic 
reached  Josephine,  and,  to  quote  from  a  line  to  Madam 
F.  Beauharnais,  transmitting  the  manuscript  for  peru- 
sal, produced  "  a  sweet  change  in  all  her  feelings,"  dis- 
pelling a  dark  mystery,  and  reviving  affection  with  new 
tokens  of  love. 

DE    BEAUHAENAIS     TO     JOSEPHINE. 

"night   of  THX    G-TtB   THVRICIDOB, 

Tear  2d,  Concierg«ry  (24-25<A  July,  1794.) 

**  Yet  some  moments  to  tenderness,  to  tears,  and  to 
regret — then  wholly,  to  the  glory  of  my  fate,  to   the 


90  LIEB  or  JOSEPHIITB. 

grand  thoughts  of  ..immortality.  When  you  receive 
this  letter,  my  Josephine,  your  husband  will  have  long 
ceased  to  live  here,  but,  in  the  bosom  of  his  God,  he  will 
have  begun  to  enjoy  a  real  existence.  Thou  seest, 
then,  that  there  is  indeed  no  cause  for  mourning  on  his 
account ;  it  is  over  the  wicked,  the  insensate  men  who 
survive  him  that  tears  are  to  be  shed  ;  for  they  inflict, 
and  are  incapable  of  repairing  the  evil.  But  let  us  not 
sully  with  their  guilty  image  these  last  moments.  I 
would,  on  the  contrary,  adorn  them  by  the  thought, 
that  having  been  united  to  a  charming  woman,  I  might 
have  beheld  the  years  passed  with  her  glide  away  with- 
out the  slightest  cloud,  had  not  wrongs,  of  which  I  be- 
came sensible  only  when  too  late,  troubled  our  union. 
This  reflection  wrings  tears  from  me.  Thy  generous 
soul  pardoned  the  moment  that  suffering  overtook  me ; 
and  I  ought  to  recompense  thee  for  such  kindness  by 
enjoying,  without  recalling  it  to  thy  remembrance,  since 
I  must  thus  bring  back  the  recollection  of  my  errors 
and  thy  sorrows.  What  thanks  do  I  owe  to  Provi- 
dence, who  will  bless  thee  ! 

"  Now  Heaven  disposes  of  me  before  my  time,  and 
even  this  is  one  of  its  mercies.  Can  the  good  man 
live  without  grief  when  he  sees  the  world  a  prey  to  the 
wicked?  I  should  think  myself  happy,  therefore,  in 
being  removed  from  their  power,  did  I  not  feel  that  I 
abandon  to  them  beings  so  valued  and  beloved.  If, 
however,  the  thoughts  of  the  dying  be  presentiments,  1 
experience  one  in  the  recesses  of  my  heart  which  as- 
sures me  that  these  horrible  butcheries  are  soon  to  be 


UPB   OF  JOSEPHIXB.  91 

suspended— that  to  the  victims  are  to  succeed  their 
executioners — that  the  arts  and  sciences,  the  true  pros- 
perity of  states,  shall'  flourish  again  in  France — that 
wise  and  equitable  laws  will  reign  after  these  cruel 
sacrifices — and  that  you  will  obtain  that  happiness  of 
which  you  were  always  worthy,  and  which  to  the  pres- 
ent time  has  fled  from  you.  Our  children  will  con- 
tribute to  your  fehcity — they  will  dischaf^e  theii 
father's  debt. 

"  I  resume  these  incoherent  and  almost  illegible  lilies, 
which  my  jailers  had  interrupted. 

"  I  have  just  undergone  a  cruel  formality,  which, 
under  other  circumstances,  they  should  have  forced  me 
to  endure  only  by  depriving  me  of  life.  But  why 
strive  against  necessity  ?  reason  requires  that  we  do 
all  for  the  best.  My  hair  has  been  cut  off".  I  have 
contrived  to  purchase  back  a  portion  of  it  in  order  to 
bequeath  to  my  wife,  and  to  my  children,  undeniable 
evidence,  pledges  of  my  last  recollections.  I  feel  that 
at  this  thought  my  heart  is  breaking,  and  tears  bedew 
the  paper.  Farewell,  all  that  I  love !  Love  each 
other ;  speak  of  me  ;  and  never  forget  that  the  glory 
of  dying  the  victim  of  tyrants,  the  martyr  of  freedom, 
ennobles  the  scaffold." 

In  the  mean  time,  Josephine  was  suffering  the  an- 
guish of  suspense  as  to  her  own  fate,  which,  with  this 
sudden  bereavement,  prostrated  her  system,  and  well 
nigh  dethroned  reason.  She  heard  without  paSn  the 
summons  to  prepare  for  the  guillotine.  But  the  fall  of 
Robespierre,  and  his  fearful  end,  before  the  decision 


02  LIFB  OF  JOSEPHimi. 

was  carried  into  effect,  rescued  her  from  the  murderer's 
hand,  and  *vvith  seventy  others  doomed  to  death  on  the 
following  morning. 

Never,  perhaps,  was  there  a  more  forcible  illustra- 
tion of  the  mastery  of  superstition  over  the  mind,  when 
it  once  has  usurped  control  of  the  imagination,  than 
that  afforded  by  Josephine's  turning  triumphantly  amid 
the  sad  yet  changeful  events  that  crowded  upon  her,  to 
the  prediction  of  Euphemia,  the  "m<z^^c^a?i"  of  Mar- 
tinique. When  the  jailer  came  to  remove  the  furni- 
ture of  lier  prison  for  another  captive,  and  replied  to 
the  remonstrance  of  Duchess  d'Aiguillon,  with  an 
"  atrocious  laugh,"  as  he  finished  his  work,  "  She  will 
not  need  it ;  she  is  to  be  taken  to  a  new  lodging, 
and  thence  to  the  guillotine  ; "  while  her  companions 
lifted  a  wild  lamentation,  she  calmed  their  fears  by  as- 
suring them,  she  was  yet  to  be  the  Queen  of  France. 
A  singular  reaction  of  feeling  brought  back,  with  the 
power  of  a  revelation  from  the  skies,  this  remarkable 
liii  in  the  guessings  of  a  gipsy,  and  was  at  least  ser- 
viceable in  reviving  her  worn  and  drooping  spirits. 

The  circumstances  of  Robespierre's  death,  whom 
the  delirious  populace  at  first  named  \}[\q '' -patriot" — 
then  the  "  virtuous" — then  again  the  "  incorruvtible" 
— and  at  length  the  "great"  exhibit  impressively  the 
certain  retribution  of  gigantic  crime,  and  also  the  in- 
fluence of  small  events  on  the  destinies  of  men.  The 
murmur  of  "  tyrant,"  which  had  startled  him  to  vigi- 
lance and  mock  clemency,  found  a  response  even  in 
the  party  who  sustained   him   in  power,  and  a  con- 


UFB   OP  JOSBPHDTE.  93 

spiracy  was  formed  of  which  Tallien  was  the  guiding 
genius.  But  to  hurl  the  ensanguined  Titan  from  his 
seat  was  no  trivial  exploit,  and  when  or  how  the  con- 
spirators should  "crush  the  wretch,"  was  a  problem 
whose  solution  might  have  been  delayed  till  the  morn- 
ing sacrifice  of  citizens  had  filled  the  open  pits  that 
waited  for  the  mutilated  forms  of  princes  and  mendi- 
cants— maidens  and  mothers — but  for  Tallien's  love 
for  a  beautiful  captive,  Madam  de  Fontenay,  who  for 
his  sake  leaving  her  husband,  was  finally  divorced. 
She  found  that  her  blood  was  required,  and  without 
immediate  action,  she  would  be  hurried  to  the  scaffold. 
One  evening  as  she  was  wont  to  do,  she  stood  before 
the  prison-grates,  accompanied  by  her  friend  Madam 
Beauharnais,  to  have  at  least  a  look  from  Tallien,  who 
thus  nourished  his  own  attachment.  Madam  de  Fon- 
tenay  determined  to  make  an  effort  to  avert  the  stroke 
of  the  dictator.  She  resorted  to  one  of  the  many  dis- 
guises employed  by  parted  friends  in  all  ages^'^inder 
the  vulture  eye  of  oppression.  Attracting  Tallien's 
attention,  she  threw  a  cabbage-stalk  from  the  window, 
enclosing  a  note,  entreating  him  "  if  he  loved  her,  to 
urge  every  means  to  save  France,  and  her."  The  die 
was  cast — he  hastened  to  the  Committees,  and  fanned 
the  discord  there,  then  entered  the  Convention,  where 
Robespierre  was  silently  waiting  like  a  couchant  tiger 
for  conflict  with  his  foes.  St.  Just  was  addressing  the 
assembly,  and  as  he  uttered  the  words,  "  I  lift  the 
veil,"  he  forced  him  from  the  tribune,  and  shouted  with 
awakening  energy,  "  I  rend  it  asunder !"     Then  like 


94  m  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE. 

Cicero  on  Catiline,  he  turned  his  impetuous  harangue 
upon  Robespierre,  until  the  indignation  was-  concen- 
trated in  that  cry  of  vengeance,  "  Down  with  the 
tyrant !"  resounding  through  the  hall,  the  knell  of  his 
doom.  He  was  arrested  in  the  circle  of  his  adherents, 
who  made  a  short  struggle  in  his  defence  ;  but  escap- 
ing from  custody  and  accompanied  by  them,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  The  Convention  de- 
clared them  all  "  outlaws,"  and  broke  in  upon  their 
conclave  to  finish  the  summary  sentence.  After  an 
unsuccessful  attempt  to  kill  himself,  Robespierre  was 
dragged  to  the  guillotine,  and  his  brother,  with  others 
of  the  Jacobin  oligarchy,  soon  after  followed  him  to 
the  block.  Thus  perished  amid  the  execrations  of  the 
people,  the  homicide  they  worshipped  as  a  god  whei*- 
he  rose  to  his  guilty  eminence  on  the  ruins  of  a  fallen 
throne.  This  was  on  the  9th  Thermidor,  (July  27, 
1794.)  And  thus  a  woman  indirectly  slew  the  ruler  in 
this  Reign  of  Terror,  and  opened  the  way  for  her  com- 
panion in  peril,  to  reach  the  summit  from  which  he 
was  so  suddenly  hurled,  and  which  her  virtues  would, 
by  a  mighty  contrast,  bi'illiantly  adorn. 

And  it  was  doubtless  through  the  influence  of  this 
lady,  afterwards  Madam  Tallien,  that  Josephine  re- 
gained her  freedom — though  the  process  of  her  libera- 
tion is  not  disclosed.  For  under  the  new  government 
of  a  kingdom  still  throbbing  to  its  centre  with  the  vol- 
canic action  of  the  mad-fever  raging  in  its  bosom 
there  was  only  a  cessation  of  cruelties — a  conservative 
check  thrown  upon  the  revolutionary  struggle ;  while 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  ^'  95 

the  masses  were  suffering,  and  the  prisoners  retained 
as  a  kind  of  hostage  for  futui-e  emergency.  Josephine 
warmly  acknowledged  the  kindness  of  the  interposition 
which  saved  her,  and  was  ever  afterwards  a  devoted 
friend  of  Madam  Tallien. 

Letters  which  were  written  by  the  widowed  mother 
the  night  before  her  anticipated  trial,  evince  the  un- 
sullied devotion  to  her  family,  so  conspicuous  in  every 
change  of  her  varied  fortunes.  She  prepared  messages 
for  Eugene  and  Ilortense,  in  which  she  says,  "  My  last 
sigh  will  be  one  of  tenderness,  and  I  hope  my  last 
words  may  prove  a  lesson.  Time  was  when  I  could 
impart  sweet  instructions,  but  the  present  will  not  be 
less  useful,  that  they  have  been  given  in  the  season  of 
calamity."  Although  restored  to  her  joyful  offspring 
and  the  bosom  of  friends,  her  property  had  gone  down 
ill  the  vortex  from  which  she  but  narrowly  escaped, 
and  France  itself  was  desolate.  Her  benevolence  in 
brighter  years,  was  remembered,  and  there  were 
those  who  cheerfully  extended  aid  in  the  destitution 
that  prevailed,  especially  Madam  Dumoulin,  an  excel- 
lent woman,  "  to  whom,"  she  has  said,  "  I  was  actually 
indebted  for  my  daily  bread."  The  famine  raged  so 
fiercely,  the  wealthiest  were  fearful  of  starvation — and 
the  common  people,  like  those  of  afllicted  IreJand  at 
present,  were  frantic  skeletons  or  dying  maniacs.  As 
the  previous  years  were  called  the  Reign  of  Terror,  so 
1795  might  be  named  the  "starving  time."  It  is  also 
related  that  to  escape  the  restless  'spirit  of  ochlocracy 
which  yet  was  rife,  Madan>  Beauharnais  was  obliged 


96  LIPB  OF  JOSEPHINB. 

to  apprentice  Eugene  to  a  carpenter  in  the  Rue  del' 
Echelle,  lest  his  noble  blood  should  make  him  a  mark ' 
for  the  assassin's  stroke ;  and  that  the  subsequent  Vice- 
roy of  Italy,  in  this  condition,  was  seen  bearing  on  his 
youthful  shoulders  the  heavy  plank,  and  other  burdens 
incident  to  his  rough  employment.  It  is  certain,  his 
mother  afterward  alluded  to  their  humble  life  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  to  restrain  ambition,  and  enforce  on  the 
prince's  mind  the  lessons  of  humanity  and  magna- 
nimity. 

We  may  here  pause,  where  the  "  counter-revolution 
equally  bold  and  artful,  raised  its  vengeance-glowing 
head ;"  and  survey  the  outline  of  the  unparalleled 
movement,  whose  rapid  sweep  astonished  the  nations. 

Its  rise  was  manifestly  the  legitimate  result  of  cor- 
ruption in  the  social  and  political  state,  in  contrast 
with  the  diffusion  of  intelligence  among  the  people. 
Since  the  advent  of  Christ,  ideas  of  equality  of  rights, 
essential  to  human  responsibility,  had  been  penetrating 
the  minds  of  the  enslaved,  and  the  press  scattered 
them  like  firebrands  among  the  combustible  material 
that  lies  beneath  the  shadow  of  every  despotic  throne. 
National  bankruptcy  and  pecuniary  distress,  in  con- 
nection with  the  light  Montesquieu  shed  on  the  cause 
of  freedom,  followed  by  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  whose 
scepticism  also  prepared  the  way  for  the  blind  atrocity 
which  distinguished  the  revolution ;  hastened  the  dread- 
ful consummation  of  awakening  rebellion  in  France. 

The  clear  illumination  of  Revelation  was  discarded 
as  superstition,  and  sensuality,  passion,  characteristic 


LIFE    OF   JOSEPHINE.  ft7 

frivolity,  and  aristocratic  bitterness  of  the  court  and 
foreign  monarchies  to  innovation,  made  the  struggle 
from  its  commencement  a  lawless,  dark,  ferocious,  and 
hopeless  civil  war.  Yet  did  1789  bring  such  a  shiver- 
ing of  fetters,  and  shout  of  uprising  millions,  that  the 
sound  rose  above  the  shrieks  of  madness  and  groans  of 
death-agony,  and  fell  like  music  on  the  ear  of  the 
oppressed,  and  as  a  knell,  was  listened  to  by  anxious 
kings.  The  echo  of  that  conflict  has  not  died  away, 
but  a  response  is  heard  in  the  deepening  voice  of  the 
masses  demanding  justice ;  and  beheld  in  the  birth- 
throes  of  liberty  that  shake  the  dynasties  of  Europe. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  first  decisive  action  was  the 
convocation  of  the  Estates,  April  27th,  1789.  The 
committal  of  Louis  to  the  third  estate,  or  the  people, 
by  which  his  authority  was  gone — and  the  consequent 
indecision  when  urged  to  crush  the  tumult  by  massacre, 
followed  by  the  report  of  the  banishment  of  Necker 
and  Montmain,  both  popular  ministers — inflamed  the 
multitude,  and  spread  insurrection  on  every  side. 
Then  came  the  storming  of  the  Bastile,  the  state  for- 
tress, in  which  the  noblest  and  purest  had  wept  and  died. 
The  eager  throng  raising  their  wild  outcry,  rushed 
upon  the  hoary  sepulchre  of  hope  and  innocence  like 
resistless  surges,  till  it  fell  amid  the  acclamations  of 
millions,  and  their  tears  of  joy;  while  the  overthrow 
resounded  over  the  continent,  gladdening  everywhere 
the  hearts  of  the  good. 

Political  fanaticism,  excited  and  encouraged  by  as- 
piring and  unprincipled  leaders,  succeeded ;  the  aban- 


9^  LITE    OF   JOSEPHLSE. 

doned  and  homeless  flocked  together,  with  curses  beg- 
ging for  bread,  until  forty  thousand  inarched  toward 
Versailles,  and  the  royal  family  were  compelled  to  ask 
for  mercy.  Conducted  by  the  rabble  to  Paris,  Louis 
was  a  creature  of  the  living  tide,  that  now  with  accumu- 
lating strength  bore  on  its  bosom  the  titles  of  nobility 
and  the  insignia  of  rank,  threatening  the  very  citadel 
of  Bourbon  power.  Clubs  arose  which  favored  the 
concentration  of  Revolutionary  action.  The  King 
finally  fled,  but  after  five  days,  returning,  was  reinstated, 
and  signed  a  constitution  which  was  speedily  over- 
thrown, while  foreign  coalition  to  crush  democracy, 
"poured  oil  on  the  blazing  flame."  September  21st, 
1792,  the  Jacobin  faction,  headed  by  Robespierre  and 
Marat,  having  obtained  the  ascendant,  declared  Royalty 
forever  abolished,  and  France  a  Republic. 

Louis  XVL  was  arraigned  before  the  Convention, 
December  11th;  January  17th  condemned,  and  was 
executed  on  the  21st  of  the  same  month.  Next  fell 
the  Gironde,  of  whom  Beauharnais  was  a  chief  ia 
elevation  of  mind,  and  terrorism  with  its  hideous  tribu- 
nal was  supreme.  In  this  unexampled  machinery  of 
desolation,  were  a  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  the 
many-headed  monster  which  wielded  the  strength — 
having  its  secret  courts,  and  dictating  measures  at 
pleasure,  however  villanous  their  design.  The  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Security  was  subordinate,  acting  as 
police,  and  with  the  former  constituting  the  Legislative 
Assembly  as  far  as  any  deliberative  action  softened  the 
Cwrceness  of  misrule  and  unbridled  depravity.      The 


UKE  OF  JOSSPHmE.  W 

crowning  terror  was  the  Tribunal,  whose  eight  judges 
and  twelve  jurymen,  were  a  frightful  semblance  of 
justice  to  the  accused.  This  executive,  afterward 
divided  into  four  brandies  for  more  successful  opera- 
tion, was  aided  by  the  Parisian  Club,  whose  members 
hunted  out  the  suspected,  whether  retired  citizens  or 
active  patriots — and  the  guillotine  declared  permanent, 
flooded  the  land  with  the  life-stream  of  headless  trunks, 
till  more  than  a  million  were  offered  up  to  the  deity  of 
Reason. 

So  from  each  smiling  valley  and  sunny  slope,  with 
the  spreading  dawn,  the  sledges  were  visible  loaded 
with  victims,  and  the  green  turf  bathed  in  the  red  bap- 
tism, till  the  people  drunk  with  slaughter,  turned  on  the 
insatiate  autocrat,  and  trampled  him  indignantly  under 
their  feet.  This  crisis  reserved  Josephine  for  new 
scenes,  and  brighter  as  well  as  gloomier  days. 

With  the  pliancy  of  disposition,  so  striking  in 
Frenchmen,  Paris  stained  with  blood,  soon  displayed 
the  gorgeous  livery  of  fashion,  and  circles  of  festivity 
Madam  Tallien,  and  Maclam  Beauharnais,  were  con- 
spicuous in  the  saloons,  on  account  of  their  beauty  and 
accomphshments,  especially  the  former,  vfhose  personal 
attractions  were  superior  to  those  of  the  graceful 
widow.  It  is  pleasing  to  witness  amid  this  singular 
obHvion  of  the  past,  a  remembrance  of  the  dead,  and 
cultivation  of  the  better  feelings,  as  in  the  following 
letter  of 

JOSEPHINE    TO    MADAM    F.    BEAUHARNAIS. 

*•  I  must  relate  to  you  a  charming  trait  of  our  Eugene 
.7  E 


100  LIFB   OF  JOSEPHOTE.  ^ 

Yesterday,  being  the  7th  Thermidor,  the  anniversary 
of  a  day  ever  to  be  deplored,  I  sent  for  him,  and  show- 
ing the  engraved  portrait  of  his  father,  said,  '  There, 
my  son,  is  what  will  prove  equivalent  to  six  months  of 
diligent  study  and  of  wise  conduct.  The  portrait  is  for 
you ;  carry  it  to  your  chamber,  and  let  it  often  form 
the  object  of  your  contemplations.  Above  all,  let  him 
whose  image  it  presents  be  your  constant  model :  he 
was  the  most  amiable  and  affectionate  of  men,  he 
would  have  been  the  best  of  fathers.'  Eugene  spoke 
not  a  word  :  his  look  was  cast  down,  his  countenance 
BufTused,  and  his  grief  evident  in  his  agitation.  On 
receiving  the  portrait,  he  covered  it  with  kisses  and 
tears.  Mine  also  flowed  apace,  and  thus,  silently 
locked  in  each  other's  embrace,  we  offered  to  the 
shade  of  Alexander  an  acceptable  homage. 

"  The  same  evening  all  my  friends  having  retired 

excepting  Cubiere  and  St. ,  I  beheld  my  son  enter, 

followed  by  six  of  his  young  friends,  each  decorated 
with  a  copy  of  Alexander's  portrait,  suspended  from 
the  neck  by  a  black  and  white  ribbon.  '  You  see,' 
said  Eugene,  *  the  founders  of  a  new  order  of  knight- 
hood ;  behold  our  tutelary  saint,'  pointing  to  the 
portrait  of  his  father,  '  and  these  are  the  first  members,' 
introducing  his  youthful  friends.  '  Ours  is  named  the 
order  of  Filial  Love,  and  if  you  would  witness  the  first 
inauguration,  pass  with  these  gentlemen  into  the  small 
drawing-room.'  Judge,  my  dear  aunt,  of  my  emotion ! 
We  followed  Eugene.  Our  little  saloon,  fitted  up  with 
a  taste  in  which  I  recognized  the  hand  of  Victorine, 


♦  LIPK  OP  JOSKPHINE.  101 

was  ornamented  with  a  long  garland  of  ivy,  roses,  and 
laurels.  Inscriptions,  extracted  from  the  printed  dis- 
courses or  remarkable  sayings  of  M.  de  Beauharnais, 
filled  the  intervals,  and  beneath  them  were  girandoles 
with  lighted  tapers.  This  heroic  and  simple  decora- 
tion served  as  an  offset  to  a  species  of  altar,  upon 
which,  surrounded  with  festoons  of  flowers,  and  with 
flambeaux,  stood  the  whole-length  portrait  of  my  unfor- 
tunate husband.  Three  crowns,  one  of  white  and  red 
roses,  a  second  of  laurel,  and  the  third  of  cypress,  were 
suspended  from  the  picture-frame ;  and  in  front  stood 
*  two  vases  with  perfumes.  Six  others  of  my  son's  com- 
panions, ranged  about  the  altar,  maintained  a  respect- 
ful silence.  On  seeing  us,  the  greater  part,  being  arm- 
ed with  swords,  unsheathed  their  weapons,  and  clasp- 
ing the  hand  of  my  son,  took  the  oath,  '  to  love  their 
parents — to  succor  each  other — and  to  defend  their 
country.'  At  this  sacred  word,  my  son,  unfurling  and 
waving  a  small  pennon,  shaded  among  its  folds  the 
head  of  his  father.  We  embraced  each  other,  min- 
gling tears  with  smiles,  and  the  most  amiable  disorder 
succeeded  to  the  ceremonial  of  inauguration. 

"  Ah !  my  beloved  aunt,  could  anything  comfort  me 
for  my  irreparable  loss,  would  not  my  children  prove 
my  consolation,  who,  while  they  make  me  feel  it  more 
acutely,  sweeten  the  pain  by  so  many  good  and  endear- 
ing qualities !  How  much  did  I  regret  that  my  Hor- 
tense  was  absent ! — but  she  is  with  you.  She  will  read 
my  letter ;  she  will  weep  with  joy  in  there  recognizing 
her  own  affections,  and  will  double  her  delight  while 


103  UFB  OF  JOSBPHINX.  # 

she  runs  to  mingle  tears  with  those  of  her  brother,  who, 
I  am  well  assured,  will  ever  bear  in  mind  his  father's 
constancy  and  courage,  and  will  strive  to  render  him- 
self worthy  of  the  name  he  bears,  by  perpetuating  the 
brilliant  actions  which  render  the  warrior  illustrious, 
and  which  honor  the  peaceful  citizen.  The  heart  of 
my  Eugene  includes  all  that  is  good  and  great." 

Cheered  by  visions  of  Eugene's  future  glory,  and 
idolized  in  the  society  of  the  metropolis,  where  even 
over  Barras  and  others  who  had  been  associated  with 
the  terrorists,  she  threw  a  subduing  spell,  while  she  won 
their  friendship,  advantageous  as  it  was  sincere,  Jose- 
phine passed  quietly  the  vernal  months  of  1795 ;  a  pre- 
lude to  her  entrance  upon  a  wader  and  more  splendid 
theatre  of  influence. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BONAPASTE  IN  PAaiS.-— A  GLAN'CE  AT  HIS  HISTORY.— PKaSONAI  AFrEAKAXCXi 
HIS  EXPLOIT  THE  13tH  VENDEMIAIRE. —^ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  JOSE- 
PHINE.  UEa    VIEWS    OF   A   SECOND    MARRIAGE. HE.SITATES. NAPOLEOX 

FREQUENTS  THE  MANSION  OF  MADAM  DE  BEAUHARNAIS. HIS  CONVERSA- 
TIONAL POWER.S. — MARRIAGE.— LE.WES    HIS    BRIDE  TO  JOIN  THE  ARMY. 

BRILLIA.VT   SUCCESS. COURhSPONDENCK. EUGENk's  HEROISM. LETTERS 

TO  JOSEPHINE. HER  RESIDENCE  AT  MILAN. BONAPARTE's  PECULIARI- 
TIES, AND  KINDNESS  TO  JOSEPHINES  FAMILY. — HE  MARCHES  TO  RASTADT, 
RETURNS   TO    PARIS. JOSEPHINE   JOINS    HIM. 

It  was  "  Prarial"*  of  the  third  year  of  the  Repub- 
lic, (1795,)  when  Napoleon,  the  hero  of  Toulon,  return- 
ed to  Paris,  suspended  from  his  rank  as  General  of  the 
artillery,  and  taking  private  lodgings,  renewed  his  in- 
timacy with  his  old  classmate  and  friend,  Bourrienne. 
Albitti  and  Salicetti,  who  succeeded  the  terrorists  as 
Representatives  of  the  people,  influenced  by  the  mis- 
representations of  his  enemies,  or  jealous  of  the  young 
Corsican,  whose  rapid  advancement  astonished  them 
ordered  the  arrest  which  resulted  in  this  humiliation  ; 
and  had  it  occurred  a  few  weeks  earlier,  would  doubt- 

•  The  new  calendar  formed  October,  1793,  upon  the  abolition  of 
the  Christian  Register,  divided  the  year  into  twelve  months  of  thirty 
days  eacli,  succeeded  by  five  complenientiil  days.  The  names  of  the 
months  are  taken  from  tlie  seasons.  In  the  Spring,  were  Germineal, 
Florin!,  and  Prarial;  in  the  Summer,  Messidor,  Thermidor,  and 
Fructidor ;  in  the  Autumn,  Vendimiere,  Brainuire,  and  Frumiare  ;  in 
the  Winter.  Nivote,  Pluviote,  and  Ventou. 


104  LIFB  OF  josephhte. 

^  less  have  added  him  to  the  myriads  despatched  by  the 
guillotine.  Here  the  months  passed  away  ;  the  youth- 
ful officer  frequenting  the  theatres,  and  moving  quiet- 
ly among  the  busy  crowds  that  thronged  the  Capital, 
scarcely  arrested  their  attention,  much  less  the  eye  of 
beauty;  while  his  restless  spirit  chafed  against  his  in- 
activity, like  the  captive  eagle  upon  the  iron  grate  that 
confines  his  free  piniftns.  But  his  generous  impulses 
found  culture  in  relieving  the  pitiful  groups  that  cross- 
ed his  daily  paths,  and  he  often  enlisted  the  sympa- 
thies of  others  for  the  wretched. 

Bonaparte's  career  up  to  this  time  had  prepared  him 
for  his  mission.  In  Corsica,  he  was  cradled  in  the 
midst  of  political  agitation,  and  hostile  from  his  boyhood 
to  the  subjugation  of  the  island,  he  became  meditative 
and  reserved,  nourishing  that  self-reliance  and  indepen- 
dence of  character,  which  made  him  at  Brienne  a 
sullen  solitaire,  and  target  of  raillery  to  his  fellow 
students.  This  strengthened  his  sublime  decision  of 
character,  and  quickened  his  keen  observation  of 
human  nature,  while  it  gave  him  that  appearance  of 
severity  and  contempt  for  man,  which  distinguished  his 
manner  when  mingling  with  promiscuous  society. 

He  was  at  this  date,  twenty-six.  The  dark  com- 
plexion of  early  years  had  worn  off  under  the  mild  sky 
of  France ;  but  a  contagious  disease  he  had  taken 
at  Toulon,  from  a  soldier,  and  which  penetrated  his 
system  with  malignant  power,  so  reduced  his  frame, 
that  his  flashing  eye  seemed  set  in  the  sockets  of  a 
skeleton.     Yet  his  ambition    was  untamed,   and  he 


LIPB   OF  JOSEPHItrE.  105 

waited  anxiously  for  an  occasion- which  the  convulsions 
of  the  country  in  their  constantly  changing  aspect,  in 
the  following  autumn  presented.  The  Convention  had 
lost  favor  with  the  multitude,  and  a  new  step  waa 
demanded  in  the  march  of  revolution.  A  constitution 
was  formed,  securing  a  Directory  of  five,  the  execu- 
tive— a  Council  of  five  hundred,  the  House  of  Com- 
mons— and  the  Council  of  Ancients,  answering  to  the 
English  Peers.  The  Convention,  unwilling  to  part 
with  authority,  made  it  a  condition  of  acceptance,  that 
the  second  division  should  include  two  thirds  of  their 
members.  This  excited  the  Parisians,  especially  the 
superior  classes,  who  were  indignant  because  it  dis- 
closed an  arbitrary  and  selfish  tenacity  of  power. 
With  these  insurrectionary  sections,  the  National 
Guard  united,  and  the  forces  prepared  to  attack  the 
Tuilleries,  and  compel  the  assembly  to  meet  the  wishes 
of  the  majority,  and  change  their  measures.  With  five 
hundred  regular  troops,  and  the  remnant  of  Robes 
pierre's  ruffian  army,  the  Convention  prepared  to 
resist  the  onset.  Menou  assumed  the  command,  and 
failed  to  fill  the  perilous  position.  While  his  indecision 
alarmed  the  body  still  in  session,  Barras  exclaimed,  as 
if  a  sudden  revelation  had  aroused  him,  "  I  have  the 
man  whom  you  want:  it  is  a  little  Corsican  officer, 
who  will  not  stand  upon  ceremony."  This  expres- 
sion determined  the  destiny  of  Napoleon.  He  was 
soon  in  command,  and  the  13th  Vendemiare,  (October 
5th,)  planted  his  cannon  at  the  cross-streets  and  bridges, 
sweeping  with  his  hail  of  death  the  advancing  columns 


^-i 


lOd  LEFB  OF  JOSBPHimi. 

of  the  insurgents,  till  the  pavements  were  covered 
w^ith  the  slain,  and  the  flame  of  rebellion  extinguished 
in  blood.  The  new  order  of  things  was  established, 
and  Barras,  the  presiding  spirit,  obtained  for  Bonaparte 
the  generalship  of  the  Army  of  the  Interior,  and  the 
office  of  commandant  of  Paris.  He  was  now  no 
longer  a  unit  among  the  many,  but  the  military  chief- 
tain of  a  kingdom.  Charged  with  the  work  of  disarm- 
ing the  conquered  citizens,  he  obtained  the  sword  of 
the  Viscount  De  Beauharnais,  a  blade  its  mouldering 
possessor  never  dishonored.  Eugene,  in  his  boyish 
enthusiasm,  resolved  to  have  the  weapon  wielded  by  a 
father  he  loved  and  lamented.  Presenting  himself  to 
Napoleon,  he  made  his  request — the  General  was  struck 
with  his  earnestness  and  manly  bearing,  and  restored 
the  relic,  which  he  bore  away  bathe<iPwith  tears.  The 
next  day  Josephine  called  at  the  commandant's  head- 
quarters, to  thank  him  in  person  for  his  kindness. 
This  increased  the  interest  Napoleon  had  entertained 
for  her  since  through  the  friendship  of  Barras  he 
formed  her  acquaintance  in  the  social  circles  of  Paris. 
It  is  related  that  before  he  indulged  serious  intention? 
of  marrying  Madam  Beauharnais,  he  oflTered  himself  to 
Madam  De  Permon,  an  old  family  friend,  and  an 
interesting  widow,  but  was  rejected.  However  this 
may  be,  he  was  deeply  smitten  with  the  charms  of  the 
lovely  woman,  whose  son  had  given  assurance  of  her 
excellent  qualities  in  his  own  admirable  behavior. 
The  increasing  attachment  was  every  way  favorable  to 
Napoleon's  plans  and  advancement,  but  subject  of 


LIFJS   07  JTOSEFHISX.  107 

painful  solicitude  to  her,  which  is  well  expressed  in  a 
letter  of  some  length,  affording  also  farther  insight  into 
a  heart,  cultivated  no  less  than  her  genius.  ♦ 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  am  urged  to  marry  again :  my 
friends  counsel  the  measure,  my  aunt  almost  lays  hei 
injunctions  to  the  same  effect,  and  my  children  entreat 
my  compliance.  Why  are  you  not  here  to  give  me 
your  advice  in  this  important  conjuncture  ?  to  per- 
suade me  that  I  ought  to  consent  to  a  union  which 
must  put  an  end  to  the  irksomeness  of  my  present 
position  ?  Your  friendship,  in  which  I  have  already 
experienced  so  much  to  praise,  would  render  you 
clear-sighted  for  my  interests;  and  I  should  decide 
without  hesitation  as  soon  as  you  had  spoken.  You 
have  met  General  Bonaparte  in  my  house.  Well ! — he 
it  is  who  would  supply  a  father's  place  to  the  orphans 
of  Alexander  de  Beauharnais,  and  a  husband's  to  hia 
widow. 

" '  Do  you  love  him  ?'  you  will  ask.  Not  exactly. 
'  You  then  dislike  him  ?'  Not  quite  so  bad  ;  but  I  find 
myself  in  that  state  of  indifference  which  is  anything 
but  agreeable,  and  which  to  devotees  in  religiofi  gives 
more  trouble  than  all  their  other  peccadilloes.  Love, 
being  a  species  of  worship,  also  requires  that  one  feel 
very  differently  from  all  this;  and  hence  the  need  1 
have  of  your  advice,  which  might  fix  the  perpetual 
irresolutioit  of  my  feeble  character.  To  assume  a  de- 
termination has  ever  appeared  fatiguing  to  my  Creole 
supineness,  which  finds  it  infinitely  more  convenient  to 
follow  the  will  of  others. 


0 


108  LIPE  OF  JOSEPHINB. 

"  I  admire  the  general's  courage — the  extent  of  his 
information,  for  on  all  subjects  he  talks  equally  well — 
^  and  the  quickness  of  his  judgment,  which  enables  him 
to  seize  the  thoughts  of  others  almost  before  they  are 
expressed ;  but,  I  confess  it,  I  shrink  from  the  despotism 
he  seems  desirous  of  exercising  over  all  who  approach 
him.  His  searching  glance  has  something  singular  and 
inexplicable,  which  imposes  even  on  our  Directors : 
judge  if  it  may  not  intimidate  a  woman !  Even,  what 
ought  to  please  me,  the  force  of  a  passion,  described 
with  an  energy  that  leaves  not  a  doubt  of  his  sincerity, 
is  precisely  the  cause  which  arrests  the  consent  I  am 
often  on  the  point  of  pronouncing. 

"  Being  now  past  the  heyday  of  youth,  can  I  hope 
long  to  preserve  that  ardor  of  attachment  which,  in  the 
general,  resembles  a  fit  of  delirium  ?  If,  after  our 
union,  he  should  cease  to  love  me,  will  he  not  reproach 
me  with  what  he  will  have  sacrificed  for  my  sake  ? — 
will  he  not  regret  a  more  brilliant  marriage  which  he 
might  have  contracted  ?  What  shall  I  then  reply  ? — 
what  shall  I  do  ?  I  shall  weep.  Excellent  resource ! 
you  will  say.  Good  heavens !  I  know  that  all  this  can 
serve  no  end  ;  but  it  has  ever  been  thus ;  tears  are  the 
only  resources  left  me  when  this  poor  heart,  so  easily 
chilled,  has  suffered.  Write  quickly,  and  do  not  fear 
to  scold  me,  should  you  judge  that  I  am  wrong.  You 
know  that  whatever  comes  from  your  pen  will  be  taken 
in  good  part. 

"  Barras  gives  assurance,  that  if  I  marry  the  general, 
he  will  so  contrive  as  to  have  him  appointed  to  the 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPmiTE.  109 

command  of  the  army  of  Italy.  Yesterday,  Bonaparte, 
speaking  of  this  favor,  which  already  excites  murmur- 
ing among  his  fellow-soldiers,  though  it  be  as  yet  only 
a  promise,  said  to  me,  *  Think  they  then,  I  have  need 
of  their  protection  to  arrive  at  power?  Egregious 
mistake !  They  will  all  be  but  too  happy  one  day 
should  I  condescend  to  grant  them  mine.  My  sword 
is  by  my  side,  and  with  it  I  will  go  far.' 

"  What  say  you  to  this  security  of  success  ?  is  it  not 
a  proof  of  confidence  springing  from  an  excess  of  van- 
ity ?  A  general  of  brigade  protect  the  heads  of 
government!  That,  truly,  is  an  event  highly  prova- 
ble !  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  sometimes  this  way- 
wardness gains  upon  me  to  such  a  degree,  that  almost 
I  believe  possible  whatever  this  singular  man  may  take 
it  into  his  head  to  attempt ;  and  with  his  imagination, 
who  can  calculate  what  he  wiH  not  undertake  ? 

"  Here  we  all  regret  you,  and  console  ourselves  for 
your  prolonged  absence  only  by  thinking  of  you  every 
minute,  and  by  endeavoring  to  follow  you  step  by  step 
through  the  beautiful  country  you  are  now  traversing. 
Were  I  sure  of  meeting  you  in  Italy,  I  would  get  mar- 
ried to-morrow,  upon  condition  of  following  the  gen- 
eral ;  but  we  might  perhaps  cross  each  other  on  the 
route ;  thus  I  deem  it  more  prudent  to  wait  for  your 
reply  before  taking  my  determination.  Speed,  then, 
your  answer — and  your  return  still  more. 

"  Madam  Tallien  gives  me  in  commission  to  tell  you, 
that  she  loves  you  tenderly.  She  is  always  beautiful 
and  good;  employing  her  immense  influence. only  to 


110  LITE  OF  JOSErnnTE. 

obtain  pardon  for  the  unfortunate  who  address  them- 
selves to  her  ;  and  adding  to  her  acquiescence  an  air  of 
satisfaction,  which  gives  her  the  appearance  of  being 
the  pei'son  obliged.  Her  friendship  for  me  is  ingenuous 
and  affectionate.  I  assure  you  that  the  love  I  bear  tow- 
ards her  resembles  my  affection  for  you.  This  will  give 
you  an  idea  of  the  attachment  I  feel  for  her.  Hortense 
becomes  more  and  more  amiable;  her  charming  figure 
develops  itself;  and  I  should  have  fitting  occasion,  if 
so  inclined,  to  make  troublesome  reflections  upon  vil- 
lanous  Time,  which  merely  adorns  one  at  the  expense 
of  another.  Happily,  I  have  got  quite  a  different 
crotchet  in  my  head  at  present,  and  skip  all  dismals  in 
order  to  occupy  my  thoughts  solely  with  a  future 
which  promises  to  be  happy,  since  we  shall  soon  be  re- 
united, never  again  to  be  separated.  Were  it  not  for 
this  marriage,  which  puts  me  out,  I  should,  despite  of 
all,  be  gay ;  but  while  it  remains  to  be  disposed  of,  1 
shall.torment  myself;  once  concluded,  come  what  may, 
I  shall  be  resigned.  I  am  habituated  to  suffering  ;  and 
if  destined  to  fresh  sorrows,  I  think  I  can  endure  them, 
provided  my  children,  my  aunt,  and  you  were  spared 
me.  We  have  agreed  to  cut  short  the  conclusions  of 
our  letters,  so  adieu,  my  friend." 

It  is  very  apparent,  that  Josephine  was  more  deeply 
interested  in  her  admirer  than  she  would  have  her 
friend  believe ;  and  asking  counsel,  was  only  declaring 
both  her  passion  and  intention  to  marry.  The  months 
departed,  and  Napoleon,  though  environed  with  duties 
whiqh  attended  his  appointment,  retired  at  evening  to 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE.  Ill 

the  mansion  of  Madam  Beauharnais,  to  hear  tlie  mel- 
ody of  her  voice,  and  enjoy  an  interlude  of  romantic  ^ 
pleasure,  amid  the  stormy  scenes  that  opened  before 
his  feet  the  path  of  glory.  With  a  few  select  friends, 
among  whom  Madam  Tallien  was  conspicuous,  there 
were  frequent  meetings  of  the  parties,  and  brilliant 
entertainments,  which  extended  the  friendship  and  in- 
fluence of  the  commander-in-chief,  among  the  very 
class  the  most  available  in  carrying  forward  his  am- 
bitious schemes ;  already  towering  above  Alpine  sum- 
mits, and  embracing  thrones  which  had  withstood  the 
flow  of  centuries. 

Josephine  has  left  her  testimony  respecting  the  fine 
conversational  powers  of  her  lover — which  is  proof  of 
his  ability  in  this  department,  whenever  he  chose  to  in- 
dulge the  abandon  of  wit  and  compliment  in  the  so- 
ciety of  women,  for  whom,  it  is  well  known,  he  enter- 
tained but  a  light  opinion ;  owing  doubtless  to  the 
frivolous  character  and  easy  virtue  of  the  majority  of 
those  he  met  in  the  gay  society  of  the  metropolis. 

The  spring-time  spread  beauty  again  over  the  val-  "^'-fff- 
leys  of  unhappy  France,  while  the  tocsin  of  war  fell  on 
the  eager  ear  of  Napoleon.  How  the  waving  foliage 
nourished  by  the  decaying  dead,  the  bending  sky,  and 
the  harmonies  of  nature  filling  it,  mocked  the  mourn- 
ful dwellings  and  breaking  hearts,  whose  trampled 
vineyards  were  a  symbol  of  what  madness  had  wrought,  ^^ 
and  an  index  of  future  desolation  by  the  shock  of  con- 
tending armies !  But  Napoleon  listened  only  to  the 
ravishing  tones  of  love,  and  the  sweeter  notes  of  fame's 


• 


112  LIPK  OP  JOSEPHmS, 

shrill  trumpet ;  for  his  pulse  never  beat  so  wildly  with 
•  hope  and  enthusiasm  before. 

He  led  Josephine  to  the  altar  according  to  revolu- 
tionary form,  which  was  a  simple  presentation  before 
4he  proper  magistrate.,  March  9th,  1796.  Barras  and 
Tallien  witnessed  the  ceremony,  and  signed  with  Le- 
niarois,  an  aid-de-camp,  and  Calmelet,  a  lawyer,  the  act 
recorded  in  the  state  register  of  Paris. 

Twelve  days  later  he  bade  adieu  to  his  bride  and 
was  on  his  way  to  the  plains  of  Italy — a  parting  that 
blended  in  one  tide  of  strong  emotion,  the  affection  of 
an  ardent,  impetuous  spirit,  and  the  glowing  desire  to 
encircle  his  brow  with  laurels,  that 

" would  burn 


And  rend  his  temples  in  return;" 

and  which  would  prove  a  crown  of  Upas  to  the  fair 
forehead  of  the  sorrowful  Josephine.  After  a  hasty 
visit  with  his  mother,  at  Marseilles,  of  whom  he  always 
spoke  with  tender  regard,  he  joined  the  suffering  army 
at  Nice.  He  rallied  the  drooping  courage  of  brave 
men,  and  his  accents  caught  with  a  resurrection  power 
the  ear  of  Augereau,  Massena,  and  Lannes,  veterans 
in  service,  but  disheartened  by  ranks  of  unclad  and 
hungry  soldiers.  He  pointed  to  the  opulent  cities  and 
beautiful  fields  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Alps  which 
P .  lay  between  them  and  his  fifty  thousand  starving  war 
riors,  and  disclosed  with  cheerful  assurance,  the  pro- 
ject of  crossing  the  cloud-mantled  barrier.  His  suc- 
cessful march — his  splendid  victories,  and  his  terrific 


LTPE   OF   JOSEPHINE.  113 

devastation,  are  familiar  to  all  readers  of  history.  The 
national  standard,  within  a  year,  waved  along  the 
mountain  defiles  which  had  sheltered  the  flower  of  the 
Austrian  army,  and  over  plains  on  which  the  disciplin- 
ed columns  had  encamped  securely  ;  while  the  name^ 
of  Napoleon  was  heard  from  one  side  of  the  continent 
to  the'  other. 

But  his  heart  was  true  to  Josephiije,  and  turned  from 
the  spoils  of  victory  and  applause  of  millions,  to  meet 
the  smile  of  her  approval,  and  hear  in  fancy  her  accents 
of  congratulation  and  love.  Of  the  correspondence 
which  passed  during  these  stirring  events,  but  little 
which  is  authentic,  is  preserved.  The  extravagant 
letters  attributed  to  him,  are  doubted  by  judicious  biog 
raphers,  because  so  unlike  his  previous  and  subse- 
quent communications,  in  the  fulsome  adulation,  and 
approach  at  least,  to  bombast,  for  which  they  are  dis- 
tinguished. But  it  were  not  strange  if  at  twenty-six, 
with  a  distant  bride  he  had  left  so  quickly,  and  covered 
with  glory  that  would  bewilder  an  aged  conqueror,  he 
did  pour  his  raptures  in  language  whose  extravagance 
seems  now  the  fond  ravings  of  a  happy  lunatic,  rather 
than  the  utterance  of  an  intellect  well  poised  as  it  was 
creative  and  mighty. 

Eugene  soon  joined  his  father-in-law,  m  the  cam- 
paign, and  won  distinction  for  himself,  grateful  to  Na- 
poleon as  it  was  flattering  to  the  young  soldier.  This 
will  appear  in  the  subjoined  notes  originally  furnished 
by  Josephine . — 


m 


114  Ujm  OF  JQ8BPHI2TB. 


FROM  GENERAL  BONAPARTE  TO  HIS  WIFE. 

"  My  BELOVED  FRIEND, — My  first  laurel  is  due  to  my 
^ountry  ;  my  second  shall  be  yours.  While  pressing 
Alvinzi,  I  thought  of  France  ;  when  he  was  beaten,  I 
thought  of  you.  Your  son  will  send  you  a  scarf  sur- 
rendered to  him  by  Colonel  Morback,  whom  he  took 
prisoner  with  his  own  hand.  You  see,  madam,  that 
our  Eugene  is  worthy  of  his  father.  Do  not  deem  me 
altogether  uhbeserving  of  having  succeeded  to  that 
brave  and  unfortunate  general,  under  whom  I  should 
have  felt  honored  to  have  learned  to  conquer.  I  em- 
brace you.  Bonaparte." 

The  brevity  and  delicacy  of  feeling  which  are  no- 
ticeable in  the  above,  are  in  pleasant  contrast  with  the 
effusion  of  the  delighted  and  affectionate  son,  flushed 
with  honors,  and  impatient  for  a  wider  field  of  action 

FROM  COLONEL  EUGENE  BEAUHARNAIS  TO  HIS  MOTHER. 

"My  dear  AND  RESPECTED  MOTHER, — Detained  at 
Lyons  by  business,  I  cannot  resist  my  impatience  to 
commune  with  you.  I  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to 
perform,  under  the  eye  of  General  Bonaparte,  an  ac- 
tion which  obtained  his  approbation,  and  has  inspired 
me  with  a  more  honorable  opinion  of  myself.  In  ta- 
king prisoner  an  Austrian  lieutenant-colonel,  I  thought 
of  my  father ;  I  was  seen  by  the  general,  and  felt  con- 


UFE  OF  JOSEPniNB.  115 

scious  that  you  would  applaud  me.  What  motives  to 
serve  one's  country !  These  encouragements  will  at 
all  times  be  the  same,  and  they  will  ever  possess  the 
same  influence  over  my  heart.  Hang  up  the  scarf  in 
your  cabinet,  under  the  portrait  of  my  father,  to  whom, 
with  you,  I  render  this  homage.  As  to  the  one  woven 
and  given  me  by  Hortense,  tell  her  it  sliall  not  easily 
be  taken  from  the  wearer.  We  intend  to  make  the 
Austrians  very  prodigals  in  this  respect,  but  are  all  re- 
solved to  continue  towards  them  the  same  niggards  as 
heretofore ! 

"  Farewell,  my  good  and  gracious  mother !  Eight 
days  hence  and  my  noble  gray  shall  be  put  to  his 
mettle,  as  if  with  a  bound  I  could  place  myself  at  your 
feet." 

Bourrienne,  who  admired  the  handsome  colonel, 
wrote  the  following  complimentary  passage  concerning 
him,  then  in  his  seventeenth  year.  "  Eugene  had  an 
excellent  heart,  a  manly  courage,  a  prepossessing  ex- 
terior, with  an  obliging  and  amiable  temper.  His  life 
is  a  matter  of  history ;  and  those  who  knew  him  will 
agree  that  his  maturer  years  did  not  disappoint  the 
promise  of  his  youth.  Already  he  displayed  the  cour- 
age of  a  soldier,  and  at  a  later  period  evinced  the 
talent  of  a  statesman."  • 

Napoleon  having  concluded  the  preliminaries  of 
peace  at  Leoben,  passed  rapidly  through  the  Vene- 
tian States  to  Milan,  and  fixed  his  residence  at  Mon- 
tebello,  a  delightful  country-seat  six  miles  from  that 

city.      Here   Josephine,  having  arrived  from  Paris, 

8 


110  LIFB  OF  JOSEPHIKE. 

began  to  enjoy  what  circumstances  had  hitherto  denied 
her  since  her  second  marriage,  the  tranquillity  and  joy 
of  home.  She  won  the  affection  and  homage  of  the 
gay  Milanese  ;  many  lavished  upon  her  attentions  ex- 
pressive of  gratitude  to  the  victor,  whom  they  regarded 
as  their  liberator.  Thus  from  pure  admiration  or 
motives  of  policy,  all  classes  sought  with  enthusiasm 
to  honor  the  wife  of  Napoleon,  and  enhance  the  pleas- 
ures of  her  sojourn  among  the  romantic  scenery  of 
that  country — whose  southern  boundary  was  b^ajutiful 
and  fallen  Italy. 

But  she  soon  became  weary  of  the  pomp  and  cere- 
mony of  what  was  to  her,  except  in  name,  a  splendid 
court.  Balls  and  the  drama,  fetes  and  concerts,  which 
she  felt  obliged  to  grace  with  hep-presence,  were  to  her 
imaginative  and  sensitive  nature  the  tiresome  whirl  of 
a  dazzling  panorama  of  vanishing  views,and  she  longed 
for  more  elevated  communion.  She  therefore  went 
forth,  and  under  a  sky,  which  bent  lovingly  over  her 
as  when  she  was  the  charming  Creole  of  Martinique, 
and  looked  upon  the  glorious  summits,  and  unrivalled 
lakes  that  slept  in  their  embrace.  Her  excursions  to 
the  Apennines,  Lake  Como,  and  especially  to  Lake 
Maggiore,  afforded  her  refreshment  of  spirit  and  of 
frame.  On  the  latter  clear  expanse  repose  the  Borro- 
mean  Islands,  celebrated  by  Tasso  and  Ariosto,  in 
glowing  language.  These  lie  in  a  gulf  ornamented 
with  tasteful  dwellings  and  terraced  gardens,  with  the 
orange,  citron  and  myrtle  to  lend  shade  and  beauty 
to  the  esplanade.     In  the  distance  the  Alps  lift  their 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIXB.  117 

solemn  brows  into  the  azure,  girdled  with  cultivated 
fields,  mantling  foliage,  and  glittering  with  ice-plains, 
that  flash  in  the  sunlight,  like  a  motionless  sea  of  dia- 
monds. On  the  other  side  is  the  open  country,  covered 
with  vineyards,  dotted  with  villages  and  cities,  and 
presenting  all  the  variety  ol"  picturesque  landscape  so 
attractive  to  the  traveller  in  southern  Europe.  Jose- 
phine stood  here  entranced,  like  the  Peri  of  this  para- 
dise. At  her  feet  lay  the  crystal  waters,  reflecting  the 
green  slopes,  the  mansions  of  wealth,  and  the  wander- 
ing clouds ;  while  the  white  wings  of  distant  sail  boats 
passed  each  other  on  the  bright  undulations.  Napoleon 
loved  this  resort,  where  the  grand  and  beautiful  en- 
circled him,  invested  with  associations  of  the  glory  of 
a  former  age.  His  expanding  genius,  and  soaring  am- 
bition, were  pleased  with  scenes  that  embellished  the 
majestic  heights  guarding  the  land  of  his  victories,  and 
which  were  silent  exponents  of  his  own  dawning  great- 
ness. Even  in  his  social  intercourse  he  manifested  a 
consciousness  of  superiority — an  isolation  of  character, 
in  avoiding  a  disclosure  of  his  purposes  and  feelings, 
while  his  penetrating  glance  and  admirable  tact  drew 
from  others  their  very  shade  of  changing  thought. 
Josephine  complains  of  this  restless  independence  and 
distrust,  which  withheld  from  her  the  unrestrained  in- 
tercourse of  confiding  afliection.  There  was  in  her  a 
transparent  candor  and  lively  sympathy,  Napoleon 
doubtless  feared ;  for  secrecy  he  well  knew  was  his 
only  security,  while  his  movements  which  had  the 
•tamp  of  destiny,  were  under  the  inspection  of  a  legion 


118  LIFE   OF   JOSEPnmE. 

of  powerful  foes.  And  there  is  always  connected  with 
great  genius  an  egoism,  as  the  Germans  term  this  self- 
reliance  and  irritability,  which  are  unfavorable  either 
to  friendships  or  domestic  felicity.  But  far  as  any  ob- 
ject besides  *he  sceptre  of  the  world  could  reign  over 
his  heart,  Josephine  had  control,  and  was  cherished  in 
moments  of  rest  from  his  "stupendous  plans,  with  the 
fondness  of  early  attachment.  He  was  exceedingly 
kind  to  her  son  and  daughter,  both  in  correspondence, 
and  projecting  their  advancement  and  .happiness,  in 
proportion  to  his  own  exaltation  and  resources  of  use- 
fulness to  friends.  He  was  not  destitute  of  deep  emo- 
tion— nor  a  stranger  to  the  better  feelings  of  our  nature ; 
and  yet  there  was  ever  a  conflict  between  these  and 
the  attainment  of  his  chief  good — the  unquestioned 
pre-eminence  of  power  which  should  overshadow  a 
continent  at  least — a  principle  of  action  that,  in  its 
legitimate  result,  would,  if  possible,  map  out  the  heavens, 
and  give  away  to  his  favorites,  the  stars. 

One  little  incident  illustrates  his  regard  for  his  wife 
amid  the  stirring  events  that  heralded  his  name,  and 
betrays  the  same  superstitious  faith  in  omens  she 
cherished.  Isaby,  a  celebrated  artist,  painted  a  minia- 
ture of  Josephine  at  the  time  of  her  marriage,  which 
he  constantly  wore  near  his  heart,  in  the  feverish 
repose  of  his  tent,  and  in  the  smoke  of  battle.  When 
ihe  war-cloud  rolled  away  from  the  bed  of  the  slain, 
and  the  shout  of  victory  drowned  the  groans  of  the 
*Iying,  with  the  pause  of  joy  that  succeeded  to  the  con- 
flict, he  not  unfrequently  drew  forth  this  talisman  of 


LIFE    OF   JOSKPHIWE.  119 

his  purest  hopes  and  most  rational  delight,  and  then 
hastened  to  communicate  the  tidings  of  conquest  to  tiie 
original ;  in  which  the  expression  once  occurs,  "  In  the 
contest  I  think  of  France,  afterward  of  you''  By  some 
accident  it  happened  that  the  glass  covering  the  picture 
was  broken,  and  immediately  the  presentiment  awa- 
kened that  Josephine  was  dead — a  solicitude  which  was 
calmed  only  with  the  return  of  a  courier  sent  to  learn 
if  she  were  among  the  living. 

When  about  quitting  Milan  for  Rastadt,  he  presented 
a  flag  to  the  Directory  by  General  Joubert,  the  mes- 
senger appointed  for  the  occasion,  on  one  side  of  which 
was  the  inscription,  "  To  the  army  of  Italy,  the  grateful 
country ;"  on  the  other  a  condensed,  yet  ambitious 
bulletin  of  his  campaign:  "One  hundred  and  fifteen 
thousand  prisoners ;  one  hundred  and  seventy  stand- 
ards ;  five  hundred  and  fifty  pieces  of  battering  can- 
non ;  six  hundred  pieces  of  field  artillery ;  five  bridge 
equipages;  nine  sixty-four  gun  ships;  twelve  thirty- 
two  gun  frigates  ;  twelve  corvettes  ;  eighteen  galleys  ; 
armistice  with  the  King  of  Sardinia ;  convention  with 
Genoa  ;  armistice  with  the  Duke  of  Parma ;  armistice 
with  the  King  of  Naples  ;  armistice  with  the  Pope ; 
preliminaries  of  Leoben  ;  convention  of  Montebello 
with  the  republic  of  Genoa  ;  treaty  of  peace  with  the 
Emperor  at  Campo-Formio. 

"  Liberty  given  to  the  people  of  Bologna,  Ferrara, 
Alodena,  Massa-Carrara,  La  Romagna,  Lombardy, 
Bressera,  Bormio,  the  Valletina,  the  Genoese,  the  Im- 
perial Fiefs,  the  people  of  the  departments  of  Coreigra, 


120  LIPK   OF  JOSEPHIXE, 

of  the  iEgean  Sea,  and  of  Ithaca,  '  Sent  to  Paris  all 
the  master-pieces  of  Michael  Angelo,  of  Genercino,  of 
Titian,  of  Paul  Veronese,  of  Correggio,  of  Albano,  of 
Carracei,  of  Raphael,  and  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci.'  " 

But  the  Directory  were,  in  return  for  his  success, 
envious  of  his  popularity,  which  with  the  word  Liberty, 
was  traversing  the  valleys,  and  echoing  among  the 
snow-crowned  tops  of  the  Alps  and  Apennines,  and 
annoyed  both  himself  and  Josephine  by  the  subtle 
vigilance  of  spies ;  whose  presence  failed  to  obtain 
from  either,  treasonable  or  unlawful  aspirations,  with 
which  to  check,  by  the  interposition  of  authority,  the 
splendid  course  of  this  hero,  whose  youthful  promise 
was  that  of  bearing  at  length  the  prize  alone  in  the 
Olympic  games  of  blood,  whose  honors  Kings  and 
Generals  had  struggled  for,  and  alternately  lost  and 
won. 

Leaving  Josephine  and  her  family  at  Milan,  he 
reached  Mantua,  celebrated  the  funeral  of  General 
Hoche,  attended  to  the  erection  of  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  Virgil,  then  amid  the  acclamations  of  the 
people  marched  toward  Rastadt.  In  addition  to  the 
portrait  given  incidently  in  the  preceding  narration  of 
Napoleon's  personal  appearance,  an  additional  extract 
from  a  letter  written  at  this  time  by  an  observer  of  the 
triumphal  procession,  is  interesting,  and  has  an  air  of 
fidelity  in  the  description. 

"  I  beheld  with  deep  interest  and  extreme  attention 
that  extraordinary  man  who  has  performed  such  great 
deeds,  and  about  whom  there  is  something  which  seems 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINB.  121 

to  indicate  lliat  his  career  is  not  yet  terminated.  J 
found  him  very  like  his  portrait,  small  in  stature,  thin, 
pale,  with  the  air  of  fatigue,  but  not  in  ill  health  as  has 
been  reported.  He  appeared  to  me  to  listen  with  more 
abstraction  thaff  interest,  as  if  occupied  rather  with 
what  he  was  thinking  of,  than  with  what  was  said  to 
him.  There  is  great  intelligence  in  his  countenance, 
along  with  an  expression  of  habitual  meditation  which 
reveals  nothing  of  what  is  passing  within.  In  that 
thinking  head,  in  that  daring  mind,  it  is  impossible  not 
to  suppose  that  some  designs  are  engendering  which 
shall  have  their  influence  on  the  destinies  of  Europe." 

Already  despising  the  weakness  of  the  Directory, 
Bonaparte  was  elated  and  encouraged  by  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  people  in  the  cherished  determination  to 
overthrow  the  wretched  government,  soon  as  the  blow 
could  be  decisively  given.  This  it  would  seem  was  a 
reason  for  the  family  arrangement  which  fixed  the 
residence  of  Josephine  and  her  children  indefinitely  at 
Milan,  while  he  returned  to  the  Capital  to  mature  his 
plans ;  thus  keeping  them  away  from  the  centre  of 
danger  should  there  in  the  event  of  rupture  be  a  recoil 
of  the  rulers  he  scorned,  upon  himself.  But  there  were 
restless,  slanderous  spirits,  that  ever  haunt  society,  who, 
employed  by  Napoleon's  brothers,  in  their  jealousy  of 
his  wife's  influence,  were  eager  for  an  opportunity  to 
ruin  her  peace  and  torment  her  illustrious  companion. 
It  was  rumored  that  her  stay  in  Milan,  was  induced  by 
a  desire  to  shine  in  its  gay  circles,  and  by  her  fascina- 
tion lead  a  train  of  princely  admirers.     Though  utterly 


122  LITE  OF  JOSKPHIIfE. 

false,  it  was  tha  commencement  of  detraction  and 
suspicion  which  poi%pned  the  cup  of  pleasure  and  ap- 
plause. 

She  was  summoned  to  Paris,  and  the  prelude  to  an- 
other long  separation  consequent  upon  the  widening 
field  of  the  Commander's  victories,  was  evidently 
clouded  with  an  interruption  of  domestic  tranquillity, 
which  but  for  the  magic  of  her  sincere  devotion,  in- 
spiring confidence  and  diffusing  a  subduing  kindness, 
might  have  deepened  into  the  gloom  of  a  sad  eclipse. 

An  invasion  of  England  had  been  in  contemplation 
by  Bonaparte,  but  the  opposition  of  the  Directory 
foiled  his  designs,  and  his  own  observation  of  the  haz- 
ard of  the  enterprise  induced  him  to  abandon  it  for 
another.  In  these  schemes  his  noble  wife  did  much 
in  obtaining  influential  friends  to  aid  him  in  securing 
their  adoption.  The  expedition  to  Egypt  was  finally 
decided  upon  by  the  Directory,  who  were  willing  to 
place  the  envied  general  in  a  command  that  would 
remove  him  to  a  dangerous  climate,  and  perhaps  rid 
them  altogether  of  his  dreaded  preeminence.  He  re- 
ceived his  appointment  April  12th,  1798,  and  with  a 
troop  of  a  hundred  Savans,  to  gather  antiquarian  em- 
bellishments for  the  gallery  of  the  Louvre,  wliicli  he 
had  already  adorned  by  his  contributions  from  the 
cabinets  of  Italy,  and  also  to  make  scientific  re- 
searches ;  he  hastened  to  Toulon  to  join  his  assem- 
bled army  and  magnificent  fleet. 


# 


CHAPTER  V. 


BEPARTUEE  OF   NAPOLEON   FOR    EGTrT. THE   PARTING  WITH   JOSEPHINE  At 

TOULON. SHE    RETIRES   TO    PLOMBIERES. ACCIDENT. SENDS   FOR     HOR- 

TENSE. EXCURSION  HOME. RARE  QUALITIES  OF  JOSEPHINe's  CHARAC- 
TER.  CONSEQUENCES   OF    HER   CONFINEMENT   AT     PLOMBIERES. RUMORS 

OF  napoleon's  DISASTERS  IN  EGVPT. MALMAISON. JOSEPHINE  WATCHED 

BY  SECRET  ENEMIES. CHARGES  OF  INFIDELITY  TRANSMITTED  TO  NAPO- 
LEON.  HER  INNOCENCE  VINDICATED. MATERNAL  SOLICITUDE  AND  FAITH- 
FULNESS.  napoleon's   RETURN   TO   FRANCE. UNFORTUNATE    MISTAKE.— 

HIS    ANGER. THE   RECONCILIATION. FRANCE. 

On  the  19th  of  May,  the  winds  having  driven  his 
watchful  enemy,  Nelson,  off  the  coast.  Napoleon  or- 
dered a  hurried  embarkation  of  his  troops ;  the  anchors 
were  lifted  and  the  squadron  moved  out  of  the  harbor 
beneath  the  splendor  of  the  rising  sun.  For  six  leagues 
along  the  Mediterranean  shore,  th^rand  armament  in 
the  form  of  a  semicircle,  unfurled  its  thousand  snowy 
wings,  and  threw  upon  the  breeze  its  gay  streamers ; 
while  the  uniform  of  forty  thousand  "picked  soldiers," 
reflected  the  unclouded  beams  of  the  ascending  orb 
Josephine,  who  accompanied  the  General-in-chief  to 
Toulon,  extorting  a  promise  of  permission  to  follow 
soon  his  fortunes  in  the  East,  gazed  with  a  full  heart 
upon  the  dazzling  pageant.  Amid  all  the  magnificence 
of  the  spectacle,  her  eye  followed  alone  the  L'Orient, 
which  bore  a  husband  and  son,  whose  farewell  embrace 

still  thrilled  her  sensitive  frame,  till  its  tall  mast  became 

F 


IftA  LIFB  OF  JOSEPHIJirS. 

a  speck  in  the  distance,  and  vanished  like  departing 
hope  from  her  tearful  gaze,  beneath  the  horizon's  rim. 
Yet  there  was  the  possibility  of  meeting  her  husband  in 
accordance  with  the  assurance  given,  among  the  ruins 
of  Memphis  and  Thebes,  which  restored  the  dreams  of 
a  calmer,  brighter  future.  She  had  a  soul  that  soared 
like  the  sky-lark  when  the  storm  is  past,  and  breathed 
the  gentlest  music  of  love,  in  the  ear  of  whoever  would 
listen.     It  was  eminently  her  experience,  that 

"  Even  through  the  shower 


Of  tear-drops  on  life'^s  way, 
The  rainbow  promises  of  hope 
Will  dance,  and  make  us  gay." 

She  retired  to  Plombieres,  celebrated  for  its  springs, 
whose  waters  it  was  thought  might  give  that  tone  of 
perfect  health  to  her  system.  Napoleon  ambitiously 
desired  for  the  transmission  of  his  accumulating  honors, 
and  which  she  sought  ardently  for  his  sake.  It  was 
arranged  that  she  should  remain  there  until  the  arrival 
of  the  frigate  from  Egypt  to  convey  her  thither.  But 
a  melancholy  accident  again  darkly  overshadowed  her 
prospects,  and  lengthened  her  stay  into  a  captivity  of 
several  months.  The  scene  is  thus  described  by  a 
biographer. 

"Madam  Bonaparte,  a  few  days  after  her  arrival, 
was  sitting  one  morning  in  the  saloon  at  work,  and 
conversing  with  the  ladies  of  her  society,  among  whom 
were  Mesdames  De  Crigny,  afterward  married  to  the 
celebrated  Denon,  and  De  Cambes.  The  latter,  who 
was  in  the  balcony  entertaining  the  party  with  what 


UFE  OV  JOSEPHINIC.  125 

passed  in  the  street,  expressed  great  admiration  of  a 
beautiful  little  dog  which  she  observed  below.  Upon 
this,  all  eagerly  rushed  upon  the  balcony,  which  came 
down  with  a  fearful  crash.  Happily,  no  liv^s  were 
lost ;  but  the  unfortunate  individual  who  had  been  the 
innocent  cause  of  the  accident  had  her  thigh-bone 
fractured,  and  Josephine  herself  was  grievously  bruised. 
The  contusions  on  her  hands  and  arms  were  so  severe 
that  for  some  time  she  had  to  be  fed  like  an  infant. 
Charvet,  afterward  steward  of  the  household,  who  was 
at  this  time  principal  male  domestic,  happening  to  be  in 
a  room  immediately  above,  hastened  to  the  assistance 
of  his  mistress,  and  by  his  direction  a  sheep  was 
instantly  killed,  and  Madam  Bonaparte  wrapped  up  in 
the  hide  yet  warm  from  the  animal.  By  this  simple 
remedy,  not  only  was  the  present  pain  allayed,  but  a 
preparation  made  for  more  scientific  and  fortunately 
successful  treatment." 

Hortense  was  at  Germain-en- Lay e,  a  pupil  in  the 
boarding  school  of  Madam  Campan ;  where  she  was 
admired  for  a  character  which  combined  with  amia- 
bility, a  dash  of  that  independence  of  feeling  and 
action,  always  exhibited  by  her  lamented  father.  Mes- 
sengers were  sent  to  bring  her  to  Plombieres  to  enliven 
the  solitude  of  Josephine ;  tidings  that  made  her  young 
heart  bound  with  rapture.  Though  successful  in 
scholarship,  her  laugh  rang  out  as  she  cast  aside  her 
books,  or  turned  from  the  prison  of  girlhood,  to  the 
shaded  lawn  and  the  carriage  waiting  at  the  gate,  for  a 
ride  into  the  beautiful  country  with  its  free  air  and 


126  LIFB   OF  JOSEPHLSra. 

music — and  toward  the  being  upon  whose  bosom  her 
aflfections  set  in  an  unbroken  tide.  Among  the  anec- 
dotes related  of  this  excursion  is  the  following :  While 
lazily  travelling  through  one  of  those  dark  forests  dis- 
tinguished for  wild  traditions  and  tragical  robberies, 
her  companions,  in  musing  mood,  had  fallen  into  a 
dreamy  semi-somnolence,  when  a  startling  report  sud- 
denly aroused  them ;  with  alarm  they  gazed  into  the 
shadowy  twilight  to  behold  the  armed  brigands.  But 
fragrant  drops  flooding  the  perspiration  excited  by  fear, 
and  a  merry  shout,  dispelled  the  bewildering  apprehen  - 
sion.  Hortense  had  exploded  a  bottle  of  champaign 
in  the  faces  of  the  sleepers,  and  its  foam  instead  of 
burning  powder  discolored  their  pallid  features.  Then 
the  old  woods  gave  back  the  echoes  of  mirth,  and  the 
very  wheels  seemed  to  revolve  more  rapidly  to  accord 
with  the  ringing  gladness.  And  when  she  was  clasped 
in  a  mother's  embrace,  the  same  silver  tones  repeated 
her  name,  and  a  full  fountain  poured  tears  of  joy  upon 
the  fair  forehead  whose  marble  was  mantling:  with  the 
glow  of  returning  health. 

There  is  no  aspect  of  Josephine's  history  wliich  fails 
to  display  the  fine  outline  of  a  pure-minded  and  re- 
markable woman.  Thousrh  her  emotions  were  strong 
and  intense,  her  clear  judgment  shone  upon  every 
emergency,  and  in  the  performance  of  every  duty.  In 
the  education  of  her  own  and  other  children — in  direct- 
ing the  affairs  of  Napoleon's  domestic  relations,  there 
was  that  rapid  survey  of  the  various  responsibilities 
imposed,  and  decision  in  doing,  which  the  great  Chief- 


LITE  OF  JOSEPHUra.  127 

tain  so  sublimely  manifested  on  the  vast  battle-field 
of  nations.  A  single  letter  will  slied  additional  light 
on  this  peculiar  excellence,  written  relative  to  the 
discipline  of  a  niece  also  under  Madam  Campan  — 
Avhile  it  contains  valuable  suggestions  for  the  consid- 
eration of  youth : — 

"  My  Dear  Madam  Campan — ^With  my  niece  whom 

I  return  to  your  charge,  receive  also  my  thanks  and 

my  reproof.     The  former  are  due  for  the  great  care 

and  brilliant  education  which  you  have  bestowed  upon 

the  child ;  the  latter  for  the  faults  which  your  sagacity 

must  have  discovered,  but  which  your  indulgence  has 

tolerated.     The  girl  is  gentle,  but  shy ;  well  informed, 

but  haughty ;  talented,  but  tlioughtless ;  she  does  not 

please,  and  takes  no  pains  to  render  herself  agreeable. 

She  conceives  that  the  reputation  of  her  uncle  and  the 

bravery  of  her  father  are  everything.     Teach  her,  and 

that  by  the  severest  means,  how  absolutely  unavailing 

are  those  qualities  which  are  not  personal.    We  live  in 

an  age  where  each  is  the  author  of  his  own  fortunes ; 

and  if  those  who  serve  the  state  in  the  first  ranks  ought 

to  have  some  advantages  and  enjoy  some  privileges, 

they  should  on  tliat  account  strive  only  to   render 

themselves  more  beloved  and  more  useful.    It  is  solely 

by  acting  thus  that  they  can  have  some  chance  of 

excusing  their  good  fortune  in  the  eyes  of  envy.     Of 

these  things,  my  dear  Madam  Campan,  you  must  not 

allow  my  niece  to  remain  ignorant,  and  such  are  the 

instructions  which  in  my  name  you  should  repeat  to 

her  constantly.     It  is  my  pleasure  that  she  treat  as 


128  LTFB   OF   JQBEPHIXE. 

equals  every  one  of  her  companions,  most  of  whom  are 
better  or  as  good  as  herself,  their  only  inferiority  con- 
sjljdng  in  not  having  relations  so  able  or  so  fortunate. 
The  impressive  fact  that  an  unexpected  and  regret- 
ted occurrence  is  often  the  pivot  on  which  life  and  des- 
tiny turn,  is  apparent  in  the  annals  of  distinguished  as 
well  as  humble  individuals.  An  invisible  hand  is  seen 
in  these  transactions  which  change  the  direction  of 
events  influencing  personal  existence  forever,  and 
affecting  sometimes  the  interests  of  an  empire,  and  of 
the  world.  The  frigate  Pomona,  which  was  to  convey 
Josephine  to  the  Pyramids,  and  had  before  borne  her 
from  her  native  island  to  France,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  English ;  and  had  she  taken  passage  at  the  time 
proposed,  she  would  have  been  carried  a  captive  to 
England — changing  the  condition  of  things  entirely 
with  her,  and  perhaps  indirectly  the  struggle  with  a 
haughty  realm,  whose  prowess  at  length  crushed  the 
arbiter  of  Kingly  quarrels  and  the  almoner  of  thrones 
Napoleon's  triumphs  followed  by  terrible  reverses, 
which  brought  his  army  to  the  brink  of  ruin,  gave  rise 
lo  rumors  of  his  defeat,  and  even  assassination,  that 
tortured  the  heart  of  Josephine  with  suspense.  She  is 
said  to  have  overheard  one  day,  Le  Tour  of  the  Di- 
rectory, remark,  "  That  is  the  wife  of  that  scoundrel 
Bonaparte  :  if  he  is  not  dead  for  Europe,  he  is,  at  least, 
for  France."  Many  of  her  former  friends  during  this 
period  of  disaster,  were  less  attentive ;  an  indication 
of  faithlessness  which  her  disinterested  spirit  felt  keen- 
ly as  the  point  of  a  traitor's  weapon  among  the  nerves  ' 


UFB  OF  JOSEPHHTB.  MO 

of  her  delicate  form.  She  purchased  Malmaison,  and 
quietly  spent  the  subsequent  months  of  Bonaparte's  ab- 
sence— "  exiled  in  her  own  domain." 

These  estates  antecedently  belonged  to  the  national 
lands,  whose  rural  beauty  and  pictux'esque  views  at- 
tracted the  admiration  of  Josephine  soon  after  the 
death  of  BeSuharnais,  when  anxious  to  secure  a  her- 
mitage for  herself  and  a  refuge  for  her  children.  By 
the  intervention  of  her  unfailing  friend,  Barras,  the  re- 
formed terrorist,  who  had  obtained  a  restoration  in 
part  of  the  Viscount's  property,  she  nearly  completed 
the  purchase,  when  a  new  phase  of  revolution,  and  his 
earnest  persuasion,  made  her  the  wife  of  Napoleon. 
Her  indebtedness  to  this  influential  Director,  and  tho 
grateful  acknowledgment  which  flowed  spontaneously 
when  kindness  was  experienced,  are  expressed  in  h»\ 
own  sensible  and  simple  style,  in  a  note  written  to 
him,  while  negotiating  for  a  title  to  this  attractive 
country  residence. 


"  TO    CITIZEN    BARRAS, 
"  Member  of  the  Executive  Directory. 

**  Sa, — Nothing  could  be  more  agreeable  than  the 
statement  in  your  letter;  yet  few  things  could  have 
less  surprised  me.  I  know  your  influence,  and  more 
especially  your  zeal.  I  felt  assured  of  your  interest ; 
and  was  not  less  confldent  of  your  success.  Thus  I 
find  myself  certain  of  possessing  a  refuge ;  and,  thanks 
to  the  benevolence  whose  delicacy  enhances^the  bene- 


130  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINK. 

fit,  that  asylum  accords  with  my  wishes.  There  I  can 
resign  my  heart  to  its  tastes — tastes  peaceful  and  pure 
— which  in  the  days  of  prosperity  I  cultivated  through 
caprice  or  from  fashion,  but  which  I  now  cherish  from 
predilection.  With  them  I  have  also  inspired  my 
children :  in  these  they  have  already  experienced  the 
amusement  of  their  early  years,  and  there  they  will 
continue  to  seek  the  enjoyment  of  maturer  age.  Heirs 
of  a  proscribed  sire,  modesty  and  obscurity  suit  both 
their  desires  and  their  condition.  The  way  of  life 
upon  which  we  are  to  enter  at  Malmaison  befits  in  all 
respects  our  inclinations  and  situation;  and,  notwith- 
standing immense  losses,  if  the  father  of  my  children 
survived,  I  should  not  have  a  single  wish  to  form. 
But  had  he  lived,  should  I  have  known  you  ?  should  I 
have  been  unfortunate  ?  or  should  I  have  experienced 
how  much  benevolence  may  soothe  the  unhappy? 
Each  situation  of  life  must  be  taken  with  all  its 
chances  ;  the  most  painful  may  thus,  perhaps,  still  ex- 
hibit something  favorable,  and  of  that,  good  sense  con- 
sists in  making  the  most.  It  is  easy,  will  be  the  re- 
mark, to  talk  thus,  when  passion  no  longer  agitates.  I 
have  undergone  the  ordeal — a  course  of  suffering, 
when  for  many  months,  I  could  not  even  conceive  one 
day  of  gladness.  I  had  then  only  a  choice  of  mis- 
fortunes. I  believe  them  passed ;  and  what  you  are 
now  doing  for  me  renews  my  life.  In  devoting  it  to 
solitude,  to  study,  and  to  the  education  of  my  children, 
I  shall  consecrate  it  to  our  tranquil  happiness  and  to 
our  unaTlerable  gratitude." 


IJFS   OF   JOSEPHINS.  181 

But  the  years  that  were  anticipated  with  subdued 
feeling,  as  devoted  to  seclusion,  had  gone  full  of  aston- 
ishing change,  bringing  her  forward  upon  the  fore- 
ground of  a  drama,  that  riveted  the  observation  ol 
man  wherever  the  radiating  lines  of  communication 
carried  the  bulleiin  of  iluropean  war.  And  now  ex- 
pecting the  return  of  Napoleon,  who  had  gained  and 
lost  new  laurels  beneath  the  frown  of  the  pyramids 
and  of  consecrated  Tabor,  dipped  in  the  blood  of  the 
brave  Mamelukes,  Egypt's  best  forces,  and  the  deci- 
mated ranks  of  the  "  Army  of  the  East" — Josephine 
resolved  lo  prepare  a  home  for  the  fugitive  chieftain, 
whom  she  had  learned  to  love  for  his  own  sake,  how- 
ever her  woman's  pride  may  have  been  flattered  by 
the  splendor  of  his  renown.  She  therefore  embellish- 
ed Malmaison  with  reference  to  his  taste,  and  lived  ia 
the  enjoyment  of  a  select  society,  embracing  members 
of  the  Directory,  over  whom  her  influence  was  always 
in  behalf  of  the  proscribed  and  unfortunate,  impa- 
tiently awaiting  his  arrival  to  the  shores  of  France. 
But  vigilant  foes  haunted  the  mansion  of  persecuted 
innocence,  to  fabricate  reports  unfavorable  to  her 
fideUty,  with  which  to  inflame  the  jealousy  of  her  im- 
perious husband.  The  Bonaparte  family  were  leagued 
against  her,  and  every  circumstance  that  would  admit 
of  doubtful  import  touching  her  virtue,  was  carefully 
recorded  for  the  deadly  thrust  at  her  reputation.  The 
difliculty  of  transmitting  letters  gave  her  no  opportu- 
nity to  make  a  defence  against  the  accusations  that 

reached  Napoleon.    She  was  of  course  under  cruel 
9  F* 


132  LIFB   OF  JOSEPHINK 

suspicion,  while  the  energies  of  her  intellect  and  graces 
of  person  were  employed  to  keep  unblemished  his 
name,  and  prepare  the  way  for  advancing  measures  he 
suggested  before  his  departure,  or  during  the  expedi- 
tion. The  baseness  of  Junot  affected  her  deeply,  and 
she  made  a  last  appeal  to  the  honor  and  sympathy  of 
the  alienated  sovereign  of  her  heart,  which  ought  to 
have  moved  the  bitterest  enemy  to  tenderness  and  rec- 
onciliation. 

JOSEPHINE    TO    GENERAL   BONAPARTE. 

"  Can  it  be  possible,  my  friend  ?  is  the  letter  indeed 
yours  which  I  have  just  received  ?  Scarcely  can  I 
give  it  credence,  on  comparing  the  present  with  those 
now  before  me,  and  to  which  your  love  gave  so  many 
charms!  My  eyes  cannot  doubt  that  those  pages 
which  rend  my  heart  are  too  surely  yours;  but  my 
Boul  refuses  to  admit  that  yours  could  have  dictated 
those  lines,  which,  to  the  ardent  joy  experienced  on 
hearing  from  you,  have  caused  to  succeed  the  mortal 
grief  of  reading  the  expressions  of  displeasure,  the 
more  afflicting  to  me  that  it  must  have  proved  a  source 
of  fearful  pain  to  you. 

"  I  am  wholly  ignorant  in  what  I  can  have  offended, 
to  create  an  enemy  so  determined  to  ruin  my  repose 
by  interrupting  yours ;  but  surely  it  must  be  a  grave 
reason  which  can  thus  induce  some  one  unceasingly 
to  renew  against  me  calumnies  of  such  a  specious 
nature  as  to  be  admitted,  even  for  a  moment,  by  one 


LIFE    OF   JOSKPHmB.  183 

who  hitherto  has  deemed  me  worthy  of  his  entire  affec- 
tion and  confidence.  These  two  sentiments  are  fieces- 
sary  to  my  happiness ;  and  if  they  were  so  speedily  to 
be  refused  me,  ah !  why  was  I  ever  made  sensible  of 
the  delight  of  possessing  them  ?  Far  better  would  it 
have  been  for  me  never  to  have  known  you ! 

"  When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  you,  over- 
whelmed in  sadness  from  the  sorrows  that  had  over- 
taken me,  I  believed  it  impossible  that  I  should  ever 
again  feel  a  sentiment  approaching  to  love.  The 
scenes  of  blood  I  had  witnessed,  and  whose  victim  I 
had  been,  pursued  me  everywhere.  Such  were  the 
causes  which  prevented  apprehension  in  often  meeting 
you :  Uttle  did  I  imagine  that  I  could  for  a  single  in- 
stant fix  your  choice.  As  did  all  the  world,  I  admired 
your  genius  and  your  talents :  more  truly  than  any 
other  did  I  foresee  your  coming  glory ;  but  notwith- 
standing all  this  I  was  unmoved — loving  you  only  for 
the  services  you  had  rendered  to  my  country.  You 
should  have  left  me  to  cherish  this  admiration,  and  not 
have  sought  to  render  it  impassioned,  by  eniploying 
those  means  of  pleasing,  which  you  above  all  men  pos- 
sess, if,  so  soon  after  having  united  your  destiny  to 
mine,  you  were  to  regret  the  felicity  which  you  alone 
had  taught  me  to  enjoy. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  it  is  possible  for  me  ever  to 
forget  your  cares  and  your  love  ?  Think  you  I  can 
ever  become  indifferent  about  one  who  sweetens 
existence  by  all  that  is  delightful  in  passion  ?  Can  1 
ever  efface  from  my  memory  your  kindness  to  Hor- 


134  LIFE   OP  JOSEPHINE. 

tense — your  counsel  and  example  to  Eugene  ?  If  this 
appear  to  you  impossible,  how  can  you  suspect  me  of 
being  interested  for  a  single  moment  in  what  is  alien 
to  you  ? 

"  Oh !  my  friend,  in  place  of  lending  an  ear  to  im- 
postors, who,  from  motives  which  I  explain  not,  seek 
to  ruin  our  happiness,  why  do  you  not  rather  reduce 
them  to  silence,  by  the  recital,  of  your  benefits  to  a 
woman  whose  character  has  never  incurred  the  sus- 
picion of  ingratitude  ?     On  hearing  what  you  have 
done  for  my  children,  my  traducers  would  be  silent, 
since  they  must,  know  that,  as  a  mother,  I  first  became 
attached  to  you.      Since  that  event,  so  dear  to  my 
remembrance,  your  conduct,  admired  as  it  has  been 
throughout  the  whole  of  Europe,  has,  in  my  heart,  but 
awakened  deeper  admiration  of  the  husband  who  made 
choice  of  me,  poor  as  I  was,  and  unhappy.     Every 
step  which  you  take  adds  to  the  splendor  of  the  name 
I  bear — and  is  such  a  moment  seized  to  persuade  you 
that  I  no  longer  love  you  ?   What  absurdity — or  rather 
what  vileness  on  the  part  of  your  companions,  jealous 
as  they  are  of  your  marked   superiority.      Yes,  my 
friend,  I  love  you  with  a  sincerity  known  well,  even  to 
those  who  assert  the  contrary.     They  must  be  con- 
scious of  wronging  me,  for  several  times  I  have  written 
to  them,  in  order  thus  to  hear  of  you,  to  entreat  them 
to  watch  over  you,  and  by  their  affection  to  console 
you  for  the  absence  of  your  friend :  finally,  to  keep 
me  informed  of  everything  connected  with  you.     But 
how  have  these  people  acted,  who  pretend  such  devo- 


UrSj^V  JOSEFHINS.  1S0 

tion,  in  whom  you  confide,  and  according  to  whose 
report  you  judge  me  with  inconceivable  injustice? 
They  conceal  from  you  whatever  might  lessen  the  pain 
of  absence ;  they  take  advantage  of  your  suspicious 
character,  in  order  to  create  disquietudes  that  may  in- 
duce you  to  quit  a  country  which  they  detest ;  and  the 
more  they  irritate  you,  the  better  they  are  pleased. 
Such  is  the  light  in  which  things  appear  to  me,  while 
you  are  deceived  regarding  theif  perfidious  'ntentions. 
Beheve  me,  my  friend,  so  soon  as  you  ceased  to  be 
their  equal,  you  became  their  foe ;  your  victories  even 
are  but  so  many  motives  for  their  hating  you. 

"  I  know  these  intrigues,  although  I  disdain  to 
avenge  myself  by  naming  men  whom  I  despise,  but 
whose  valor  and  abilities  may  be  useful  to  you  in  the 
grand  enterprise  so  happily  commenced.  On  your 
return  I  will  disclose  the  secret,  and  show  you  who  are 
those  envious  of  your  glory.  But  no — when  we  are 
united  once  again,  I  shall  forget  all  the  evil  which  they 
would  have  wrpught  me,  to  remember  only  the  exer- 
tions which  they  may  have  made  in  your  service. 

"  It  is  true,  I  see  much  company,  for  every  one 
strives  to  be  foremost  in  complimenting  me  on  your 
success,  and  I  confess  I  have  not  the  resolution  to  shut 
my  door  against  any  onu;  who  comes  to  speak  of  you. 
My  male  writers  are  very  numerous ;  they  compre- 
hend your  daring  achievements  better  than  women ; 
.hey  talk  with  enthusiasm  of  your  noble  deeds,  while, 
at  the  same  time,  they  cannot  complain  of  your  having 
taken  with  you  their  spouse,  their  brother,  or  their 


136  LIFS  OF  JOSBBHIKB. 

father.  Women  fall  upon  these  subjects,  and  when 
they  do  not  praise  you,  they  do  not  please  me.  Still 
it  is  among  my  own  sex  that  I  can  find  those  whose 
heart  and  understanding  I  prefer  to  all,  because  their 
friendship  for  you  is  sincere.  Of  these  I  place  first  the 
names  of  the  accomplished  ladies  D'Aiguillon,  Tallien, 
and  my  aunt.  These  are  my  intimates — I  never  quit 
them — and  they  will  tell  you,  ungrateful  as  thou  art,  if 
I  have  thought  '  of  playing  the  coquette  with  all  the 
world.'  These  are  your  own  expressions,  and  they 
would  be  odious  to  me,  were  I  not  certain  that  you 
have  disavowed,  and  at  this  moment  are  sorry  for 
having  written  them. 

"  I  tremble  when  I  think  of  the  dangers  which  sur- 
round you,  of  more  than  half  of  which  I  should  be 
ignorant,  did  not  Eugene  reiterate  his  requests  to  me 
to  write  you  not  to  expose  yourself  to  perils,  and  to 
take  more  care  of  a  life,  not  only  dear  to  your  family 
and  your  friends,  but  upon  which  hangs  the  destiny  of 
your  brethren  in  arms,  and  thousands  of  brave  followers 
who  could  have  courage  to  endure  so  many  fatigues 
while  under  your  eye  alone.  Let  me  conjure  you,  my 
friend,  not  to  exceed  your  strength,  and  to  listen  less  to 
your  own  daring  than  to  the  counsels  of  those  who 
love  you.  Berthier,  Bourrienne,  Eugene,  Caffarelli, 
less  ardent,  may  also  sometimes  see  more  clearly. 
They  are  devoted  to  you ;  listen,  then,  to  them,  hut  to 
them  only — ^you  understand  me  ? — then  both  you  and 
I  will  be  happier. 

"  Here  I  receive  honors  which  sometimes  cause  me 


LUTE   OV  JOSEPHIIfB.  137 

embarrassment.  Besides,  being  l^^tle  accustomed  to 
such  homage;  I  see  they  displease  our  authorities,  who, 
always  distrustful  and  apprehensive  of  losing  their 
power,  are  ever  on  the  watch.  Disregard  these  people, 
you.  will  say ;  but  my  friend,  they  will  endeavor  to 
hurt  you :  they  will  accuse  you  of  seeking  to  lessen 
their  power;  and  I  should  be  grieved  to  contribute  in 
aught  to  a  jealousy  which  your  triumphs  sufficiently 
justify.  When  you  shall  return  covered  with  laurels, 
good  heavens  !  what  will  they  do,  if  already  they  are 
on  the  rack !  I  cannot  calculate  where  their  resent- 
ment will  stop  ;  but  then  you  will  be  by  my  side,  and  I 
shall  feel  secure. 

"  Let  us  think  no  more  of  them,  nor  of  your  suspi- 
cions, which  I  will  not  refute  one  by  one,  because  they 
are  all  equally  devoid  of  probability.  But  to  repose 
from  disagreeables,  let  me  conclude  with  some  details 
which  will  interest  you,  because  they  affect  me. 

"  Hortense,  that  she  may  console  me  so  far  as  de- 
pends upon  her,  employs  all  her  little  heart  to  conceal 
her  fears  on  your  account  and  her  brother's,  and  puts 
in  requisition  all  the  resources  of  her  mind,  in  order  to 
dissipate  that  sadness — to  you  so  dubious — which  yet 
never  leaves  me.  By  her  talent,  and  the  charms  of  her 
conversation,  she  sometimes  contrives  to  call  up  a 
smile,  then,  in  her  joy,  she  exclaims,  'Dear  mamma, 
they  shall  know  that  in  Cairo !'  Cairo !  the  name 
instantly  reminds  me  of  the  distance  which  separates 
me  from  my  husband,  and  my  son — and  my  grief 
returns.     I  am  thus  obliged,  by  great  effort  to  dissemble 


138  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIITE. 

with  my  daughter,  who  by  a  word  —  a  look  even  — 
transports  me  to  those  scenes  whence  she 'would  view 
mj  reflections, 

"  In  the  graces  of  her  person,  Hortense  improves 
daily ;  she  dresses  with  taste  ;  and  certainly  without 
being  nearly  so  beautiful  as  your  sisters,  she  could 
hardly  fail  to  please  even  when  they  are  present.  My 
good  aunt  passes  her  life  in  suffering,  without  com- 
plaint, consoling  the  afflicted,  talking  to  me  of  you,  and 
making  verses.  As  for  me,  I  beguile  the  time  in  wri- 
ting to  you,  listening  to  your  praises,  or  reading  the 
journals  where  your  name  occurs  in  every  page.  I 
am  ever  thinking  of  you  ;  now  transporting  myself  to 
tlie  time  when  I  shall  see  you  every  hour,  now  plunged 
in  sorrow  at  the  thoughts  of  the  space  which  must 
elapse  before  you  return  ;  and  when  I  thus  conclude, 
I  again  begin.  Are  these  the  signs  of  indifference? 
I  wish  for  none  others  on  your  part ;  and  if  you  feel 
thus  for  me,  I  shall  not  think  myseff  altogether  an 
object  of  pity,  despite  the  small  slanders  which  they 
would  fain  have  me  credit  respecting  a  certain  fair 
one,  who,  they  tell  me,  interests  you  deeply.  Why 
should  I  doubt  you  ?  You  assure  me  I  am  beloved.  I 
judge  of  you  by  my  own  heart — and  I  believe  you. 

"  God  knows  when  or  where  this  letter  may  reach 
you :  may  it  restore  to  you  a  repose  which  you  ought 
never  to  have  foregone,  and  more  than  ever  give  you 
an  assurance,  that,  while  I  live,  you  will  be  dear  to  me  as 
on  the  day  of  our  last  separation.     Farewell,  my  only 


LIFB  OF  JOSEPHUra.  139 

friend  J  Confide  in  me — love  me,  and  receive  a  thou- 
sand tender  caresses." 

It  is  not  certain  this  kind  expostulation  was  received 
by  Bonaparte  before  he  fled  from  the  land  of  his  mis- 
fortunes. It  was  stated  some  years  since  in  the  pub- 
lished journal  of  a  Baroness,  that  Josephine  contempla- 
ted a  divorce,  and  actually  consulted  M,  de  Cantalen 
of  the  administration,  on  the  subject.  Interruption  of 
correspondence — inexcusable  coolness — and  credited 
reports  of  gallantries  with  the  wife  of  a  subordinate 
officer  in  Cairo — are  the  reasons  which  may  be  assigned, 
if  such  an  event  was  desired  by  her,  whose  delicacy 
and  devotion  it  strikes  one,  were  in  themselves  an 
assurance  that  she  would  rather  peiish  clinging  to  the 
wreck  of  her  happiness,  than  make  so  daring  an  effort 
to  escape  with  nothing  but  hfe.  However  this,  at  the 
suggestion  of  those  with  whom  she  conferred,  the 
subject  was  speedily  dismissed,  if  it  had  been  entertained 
by  her,  and  she  strove  to  beguile  the  hours  in  decora- 
ting her  new  abode,  cultivating  flowers,  bestowing 
kindnesses  on  the  peasantry,  and  seizing  every  means 
to  promote  the  pleasure  and  improvement  of  her  chil- 
dren. An  extract  or  two  from  a  letter  to  Eugene 
gives  a  beautiful  picture  of  the  last  occupation,  in  her 
{illusions  to  Hortense. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  give  you  an  idea  even  of  her 
amiableness  in  this  respect,  nor  of  half  her  affectionate 
co'itrivances  to  beguile  us  of  our  anxieties.  Love  her, 
my  son,  for  she  forms  my  consolation,  and  is  devoted 
to  you     She  continues  her  studies  with  great  success, 


140  LIFB  OF  JOSEPHLETE. 

but  music,  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  will  prove  the 
accomplishment  in  which  she  is  destined  to  excel. 
Her  agreeable  voice,  now  much  improved,  and  the 
style  of  her  execution,  will  greatly  surprise  you.  I 
have  just  purchased  for  her  a  piano,  the  excellence  of 
which  seems  to  have  redoubled  her  passion  for  your 
favorite  art — a  preference  probably  not  a  littte  con- 
tributing to  your  sister's  predilection. 

"  If  you  were  here,  you  would  a  hundred  times  a  day 
advise  me  to  take  care  of  the  men  who  offer  attentions 
to  Hortense,  in  a  manner  sufficiently  marked.  There 
are  some  very  urgent  in  their  addresses,  who  are  no 
favorites  of  yours,  and  whom  you  apprehend  she  may 
prefer.  Reassure  yourself  on  that  point ;  she  is  some- 
what of  a  coquette,  and  enjoys  her  success  by  torment- 
ing her  victims ;  but  her  heart  is  free.  I  am  the 
confidant  of  all  her  thoughts  and  sentiments ;  these  are 
ever  as  they  should  be.  She  knows  that  henceforth 
my  consent  alone  will  not  suffice  in  the  question  of 
marriage,  and  that  my  wishes  even  will  be  determined 
by  his  to  whom  we  owe  all.  This  will  guard  her 
against  any  choice  which  would  not  be  approved  of  by 
Bonaparte,  and  he  will  never  bestow  your  sister's  hand 
save  on  a  brother-in-arms,  as  seems  also  to  be  your 
desire." 

But  nothing  could  shield  her  devoted  form  from  the 
blasts  of  adversity,  which  beat  the  more  wildly  after  a 
flattering  pause  in  their  wrath.  She  was  even  accused 
of  extravagance,  and  compelled  to  meet  from  the  dis- 
tingue who  were  unweariedly  attentive  while  the  star 


m^    ^LIFB   OF   JOSEPHISfE.  141 

of  Napoleon  was  in  the  clear  ascendant,  cruel  contempt 
soon  as  it  passed  xinder  the  wing  of  a  cloud,  as  if  it  had 
fallen  from  heav^lif*  forever.  Talleyrand  stained  his 
honor  as  a  true  gentleman  in  this  particular,  by  a  pub- 
lic expression  of  indifference  at  the  mansion  of  Barras, 
just  before  Bonaparte  trod  again  the  soil  of  his  adop- 
tion. The  statesman  little  dreamed  that  the  flying 
Corsican  then  on  the  solitary  deep,  would  step  so  quick- 
ly on  a  shore  which  would  rock  to  his  very  foot-fall  as 
to  the  tramp  of  an  earthquake. 

Gohier,  President  of  the  Directory,  on  .the  9th  of 
November,  1799,  gave  a  splendid  levee,  embracing  the 
noble  and  the  beautiful  of  the  Capital.  Josephine  was 
a  guest,  though  more  a  spectator  than  participant  in 
the  festivity  of  the  brilliant  occasion.  The  gifted  being 
to  whom  her  tides  of  feeling  in  their  deepest  channel, 
however  dark  or  shining  their  surface — however  black 
or  beaming  the  skies  above — were  as  obedient  as  the 
sea  to  the  changeful  moon,  was  a  wanderer  among  the 
dead  and  dying  of  his  unrivalled  army,  or  perhaps  gaz- 
ing in  vain  upon  the  wide  waters  for  a  friendly  bark  to 
bear  him  away.  The  ample  entertainment  went  for- 
ward— the  viands  disappeared,  and  the  wine-cup  be- 
came the  inspiration  of  wit,  and  the  pledge  of  affection. 
But  while  the  converse  of  excited  genius  rang  out  in 
sparkling  repartee,  and  beauty  smiled,  suddenly  the  eye 
of  Gohier  was  arrested  by  a  telegraphic  line,  which 
checked  his  gayety,  and  held  the  throng  in  suspense. 
With  a  serious  air,  he  repeated  the  announcement — 
••  BonaparU  landed  this  morning  at  Frejiu."     The 


142  LIFE   OF   JOSEPJIINE. 


»% 


Strange  silence  of  that  startled  ,assenibly,  was  no  less 
marked  than  when  the  first  pedj^^  a  rising  storm  and 
its  shadows  cast  before,  hushes  i^Wtillness  the  amphi- 
theatre of  nature,  which  rang  with  the  music  and  glee 
of  spring- tim&. 

There  was  a  blending  of  vague  apprehension,  and 
wonder,  and  hope.  The  multitude,  during  his  former 
campaigns,  had  begun  to  regard  the  rapid  and  almost 
miraculous  exertions  of  that  intellect,  embodied  in  ac- 
tion that  dwarfed  all  the  great  of  antiquity  into  com- 
mon men,  with  mysterious  awe ;  and  his  unexpected 
appearance  on  the  theatre  he  seemed  to  have  deserted 
and  lost,  sent  a  wave  of  surprise  and  agitation  over 
these  rejoicing  hearts,  and  with  the  morning  light  over 
millions  more. 

Josephine  rose  upon  hearing  the  intelligence,  and 
with  suppressed  emotion  whispered  an  adieu  to  those 
about  her,  and  retired.  Her  design  was  instantly 
formed  of  meeting  him  on  his  way  to  Paris  ;  not  only 
to  hail  his-  return,  but  efface  from  his  mind  a  doubt  of 
her  fidelity,  before  it  was  graven  more  deeply  by  the 
enmity  of  those  who  envied  her  influence,  and  would 
rob  her  of  her  honors.  Accompanied  by  Hortense,  or 
as  is  affirmed  by  some  writers,  Louis  Bonaparte,  she 
hastened  with  the  speed  of  a  courier,  toward  Lyons. 
But  the  General  had  avoided  the  direct  route  she 
travelled,  and  passed  her  of  course  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  either.  Alarmed,  she  flew  with  all  possible 
speed  to  the  metropolis ;  but  she  was  too  late — the  hour 
of  midnight  which  brought  her  to  their  city  residence, 


H       ^  LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE.  143 

was  one  of  desolating  sorrow.  Napoleon  had  found  his 
home  a  solitude,  and  thp  impression,  this  unaccountable 
desertion,  relieved  only  by  the  gathering  members  of 
ihe  Bonaparte  family,  made  upon  his  spirit  stained  with 
jealousy,  and  worn  by  the  sufferings  of  his  sad  adven- 
ture, was  fearful,  and  never  foro^o^n.  It  ijy|pt  strange 
the  sobbing  w^ife  was  sent  without  re^jnmifn  to  her 
apartment,  to  weep  away  the  night  in  afr^jf-.  There 
may  be  some  apology  for  him  in  the  fact  that  society 
in  decay  had  weakened  his  faifh  in  the  morality  of  the 
elite,  and  hfs  thorough  knowledge  of  men  rendered  him 
sceptical  whenever  self-interest  was  the  stake,  with  re- 
gard to  apparent  innocence,  or  circumstantial  evidence 
against  dqeds  which  his  own  experience  assured  him 
might  tarnish  the  escutcheon  of  the  renowned.  His  es- 
timate therefore  of  human  nature  was  not  high,  for  he 
found  it  a  pliable  thing  beneath  his  moulding  hand,  and 
the  multitude  were  his  creatures,  playing  their  part 
in  his  elevation  to  disguised  royalty  ;  which  like  a  dis- 
tant summit  robed  with  cloud,  was  mistaken  for  some- 
thing that  they  admired,  and  towards  which  they  were 
impatiently  struggling,  to  find  protection  and  repose. 

lie  sternly  refused  to  see  ^Josephine,  who,  with  a 
bosom  bleeding,  waited  the  result  of  her  children's  elo- 
quence and  tears.  Two  long,  dreary  days  wore  away 
— the  wrathful  deep  of  a  mighty  mind  was  tranquil 
again  —  and  the  gentle  words  of  Ilortense,  and  her 
swimming  eye,  with  the  manly  yet  touching  entreaty 
of  Eugene,  restored  the  wonted  tenderness  of  his  better 
moods.    Ho  stole  into  her  room,  and  found  the  wife  of 


144  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.    ,      % 

his  youth  in  the  attitude  of  inconsolable  grief.  Lean- 
ing upon  the  table,  her  face  was  buried  in  her  hands — 
the  warm  tears  were  dropping  from  her  delicate  fingers 
upon  the  letters  he  had  written  in  the  fulness  of  affec- 
tion, while  convulsive  sobs  alone  disturbed  the  stillness. 
He  gazed  A  moment,jai^  with  quivering  lip,  murmured 

"Josephine  !"     She  looked  up  with  her  soul  in  the  ex- 

.        Ifc  .       .       . 

pression,  and  reading  in  his  pale  countenance  the  evi- 
dence of  a  milder  frame,  said  sweetly,  "mon  ami!" — 
the  familiar  language  of  love.  He  silently  extended 
his  hand,  and  she  was  once  more  weclomed  to  the  em- 
brace and  confidence  of  Napoleon. 

He  now  lived  for  the  most  part  in  retirement;  di- 
viding the  hours  between  domestic  society,  and  that 
profound  contemplation  with  which  he  always  matured 
his  magnificent  schemes.  He  valued,  and  cheerfully 
acknowledged  the  discriminating  judgment  and  obser- 
vation of  Josephine,  both  during  his  absence,  in  Egypt, 
and  while  enjoying  that  prelude  to  the  eventful  changes 
which  soon  after  paved  his  way  to  a  throne. 

He  found  France  retrograding  in  every  respect. 
The  Congress  of  Rastadt  had  resulted  in  the  assassina- 
tion of  French  plenipotentiaries,  and  open  war.  Su- 
warrow  with  his  battalions  had  overswept  Italy,  and 
taken  from  him  his  miniature  republics.  On  nearly  all 
of  the  national  boundaries  the  foe  hung  menacingly, 
glorying  over  the  spoils  of  victory,  and  to  complete  the 
discord  and  danger,  the  Directory,  distracted  by  the 
conflict  of  royalty  with  extreme  republicanism,  was 
the    centralization  of  anarchy  and   imbecility  rather 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE.  14N 

than  of  power  and  dignity.  There  was  necessarily  al- 
most universal  discontent,  and  in  place  of  appalling 
terrorism,  poor  France  turned  with  disgust  from  the 
oppressive  mockery  of  a  Republic. 

"  The  sensual  and  the  dark  rebel  in  vain, 
Slaves  by  their  own  compulsion  I  in  mad  game 
They  burst  their  manacles,  and  bsar  the  name 
Of  Freedom,  graven  on  a  heavier  chain  T 


i 


'^^IM^ 


CHAPTER  VI. 

rapoleon's  design. — Josephine's  political  viKwa — kugkne. — conviyiai. 

SCENES. THE  18tH  BEUMAIRE. NAPOLEON  FIRST  CONSUL. THE  RE- 
SULT.  MUEAT's  MARRIAGE. HIS  TREACHERY. ^JOSEPHINK's  MEDITATION, 

life  in  the  tuilleries. josephine. bonaparte. he  orders  the 

improvement  of  malmaison. escapes  assassination. again  crosses 

the    alps. battle    of    marengo. relaxation    at    malmaison. 

Josephine's  benevolence. — conspiracy  and  the  infernal  machine, 

marriage  of  HORTENSE. character  of  LOUIS  BONAPARTE. PER- 
SON AND  CHARACTER  OF  HORTENSE. INCIDENTS  BY  THE  WAY. IM- 
PORTANT    EVENTS. PEACE     OF    AMIENS. GAYETY     OF     THE     PEOPLE. 

HOME     OF    THE     CONSUL. RENEWAL    OF   HOSTILITIES   WITH   ENGLAND. — 

ACCIDENT. napoleon's   VIEW   OF    DEATH. 

France,  as  we  have  seen,  was  ripe  for  change. 
Napoleon  was  not  only  conscious  of  this,  but  found  in 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  nation  which  hailed  his  landing 
at  Frejus,  where  the  very  laws  of  quarantine  were  set 
aside,  and  he  was  borne  as  the  people's  idol  to  the  city, 
and  which  made  his  journey  to  the  capital  one  scene 
of  excitement  and  willing  homage,  that  the  popular 
feeling  was  moving  towards  him,  and  deliverance  ex- 
pected from  his  genius  and  resistless  force  of  char- 
acter. 

The  overthrow  of  a  government  justly  despised  for 
its  intrigues  and  failures  in  the  fulfilment  of  pledges  to 
the  masses,  and  the  welfare  of  the  country,  so  far  as  at- 
tainable in  connection  with    his  exaltation   upon   its 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIinC  141 

ruins,  was  now  the  purpose  of  this  wonderful  man,  still 
in  the  maturity  of  youth.  He  first  aspired  to  a  seat  in 
the  Directory,  where  he  could  lay  his  hand  upon  that 
unwieldy  engine  of  power,  and  give  it  the  momentum 
of  his  own,  in  human  affairs,  omnipotent  will,  and  the 
direction  of  his  sublimely  insatiate  ambition.  But  his 
age  interposed  a  hopeless  barrier,  besides  the  opposi- 
tion of  those  in  office  who  hated  him  for  his  renown, 
and  trembled  at  the  mention  of  his  name.  Instead 
therefore  of  supplanting  Sigas  at  the  head  of  the  Di- 
rectory, a  reconciliation  between  these  political  foes 
was  effected,  and  Napoleon  resolved  to  use  with  his 
cautious  policy  what  he  could  not  openly  control. 
Under  the  reserve  of  an  unsocial  manner,  and  the 
secrecy  of  private  life,  he  concealed  his  complicated 
plan  of  attack  on  the  constitution,  and  waited  with 
restless  ardor  for  the  decisive  stroke. 

Josephine  did  not  enter  fully  into  his  love  of  glory, 
which  in  its  boundlessness  was  like  a  fascinating  and 
ungovernable  madness,  nor  even  adopt  the  sentiments 
of  any  of  the  republican  factions.  She  leaned  rather 
towards  royalty,  whose  last  representative  in  the  per- 
son of  Louis  XVI.  and  Maria  Antoinette,  she  admired. 
Contrasting  his  reign,  the  corruption  of  his  Court,  and 
the  sufferings  of  his  subjects,  with  the  bloodshed,  terror, 
and  lawlessness  that  followed  his  dethronement,  there 
was  on  the  surface  of  things  more  to  condemn  than 
approve  in  the  civil  war  which  was  waged  in  the  name 
of  liberty.     Slie  naturally  turned  with  pleasure  to  the 

years  of  tranquiUity,  and  'i  her  weariness  of  tumuV 
10  G 


148  LIFE  OF  JOSKPHLNB, 

and  anarchy,  preferred  the  shadow  of  a  monarchy  to 
the  misrule  of  corrupt  freemen.  This  predilection  for 
the  Bourbons  was  apparent  in  her  effort  to  rescue  the 
proscribed  adherents  of  the  fallen  dynasty,  and  her  in- 
timacies with  the  noblesse  who  still  lingered  in  France 
as  memorials  of  an  ancient  line — the  exponents  of  a 
vanishing  yet  venerable  and  splendid  aristocracy. 
Among  these  familiar  friends,  was  Madam  de  Mon- 
tesson,  widow  of  the  Duke  d'Orleans,  whose  sym- 
pathies were  with  the  exiled  members  of  the  King's 
family  altogether;  and  Josephine's  generous  nature 
was  also  touched  by  the  greatness  of  their  calamity. 
In  the  mean  time,  Eugene  was  making  fast  atonement 
for  his  self-denial  in  the  East,  by  dashing  without  re- 
straint into  the  pleasures  of  the  metropolis,  shining  in 
the  gay  circles,  and  at  military  fetes.  He  was  a  re- 
publican as  far  as  was  agreeable  to  Napoleon,  to  whom 
he  looked  for  the  opportunity  of  gathering  additional 
laurels,  and  augmenting  his  means  of  sensual  enjoy- 
ment. He  was  a  man  of  mind  and  heart,  but  aspiring, 
and  devoted  to  the  intoxication  of  convivial  excite- 
ment, whenever  an  interlude  in  the  battle-march  oc- 
curred. His  appearance  and  manner  of  employing 
such  leisure,  are  thus  pleasantly  described  by  a  writer. 
"  Without  being  handsome,  there  was  something  ex- 
tremely prepossessing  in  his  frank  and  manly  counte- 
nance. His  stature,  though  small  (not  exceeding  five 
feet  four  inches,)  displayed  a  form  active  and  well 
knit,  though  somewhat  deficient  in  dignity,  from  a 
mincing  gait — a  youthful  affectation  which,  however 


LIFE   OP  JOSEPHINB.  149 

disappeared  with  the  firmness  and  responsibilities  of 
manhood  and  high  enterprise.  At  this  time,  his  chief 
amusement — one,  too,  not  altogether  without  an  object 
—was  to  give  splendid  breakfasts  to  the  young  officers 
of  his  own  standing.  At  these  entertainments,  some 
amusing  plot,  such  as  is  common  among  young  people, 
was  constantly  occurring.  Of  these  adventures  Eu- 
gene was  in  the  habit  of  giving  entertaining  recitals  to 
his  mother,  and  often  to  his  father-in-law,  who  laughed 
very  heartily  at  such  displays,  one  or  two  of  which 
may,  therefore,  be  mentioned,  on  the  report  of  an  eye- 
witness. Ventriloquism  was,  about  this  time,  attract, 
ing  notice  in  Paris,  through  the  performances  of 
Thiemet,  afterward  so  famous  a  professor  of  the  art. 
One  morning,  when  a  gay  circle  of  young  officers 
breakfasted  with  Eugene,  first  one,  then  another,  heard 
himself  distinctly  called  out  of  the  room,  by  the  voice 
of  his  serving-man,  until  the  whole  party  had,  in  turn, 
made  a  fruitless  expedition  down  stairs.  Each  return- 
ed more  amazed  than  another ;  and  it  was  finally  re- 
solved to  sally  forth  in  a  body.  Thiemet,  who,  not 
personally  known,  save  as  a  guest,  to  any  of  the  party, 
had  all  this  time  continued  quietly  seated  at  the  table, 
opening  his  lips  only  to  eat  or  drink,  functions  which 
he  seemed  to  perform  with  great  address,  now  rose  to 
assist  in  the  search  of  the  invisible  serving-man.  No 
sooner  had  the  party  reached  the  hall,  than  the  calls, 
all  apparently  from  different  quarters,  were  repeated ; 
each  scampered  off  in  various  ])ur8uit  of  the  supposed 
culprits,  crying  out,  *  Hero  I  here's  the  rascal!'  till,  in 


160  UFB  07  JOSEPHmB. 

the  inextricable  confusion,  Eugene's  loud  laugh  dis- 
covered the  whole  plot.  The  greater  part  received  it 
'  as  a  passably  excellent  joke ;'  but  some  there  v^rere 
disposed  to  bestow  the  chastisement  of  the  innocent 
valets  on  the  guilty  professor.  'Nay,  nay,  gentlemen,' 
interposed  Eugene,  'my  friend  Thiemet  is  not  to 
blame;  if  you  cannot  forgive  a  frolic,  the  quarrel  is 
mine.'  Upon  this  a  second  adjournment  was  made  to 
the  breakfast- table,  and  Thiemet  restored  good-humor 
by  equally  extraordinary,  but  less  offensive,  displays  of 
his  powers." 

But  with  Bonaparte,  matters  were  hastening  to  an 
issue  that  would  surprise  the  nation,  and  astonish  the 
world.  The  deceptive  quietude  that  reigned  in  the 
routine  of  his  unostentatious  movements,  resembled 
the  hush  of  the  elements  when  mustering  for  battle — 
the  pause  of  the  fiery  wave  that  rocks  the  earth  before 
it  shakes  dome  and  tower  from  their  base,  marking  a 
new  epoch  of  physical  history  with  the  fragments  it 
has  laid  in  the  dust.  On  the  very  morning  of  the  18th 
Brumaire,  (Nov.  9th,  1799,)  the  house  of  Napoleon 
was  the  arena  of  festivity.  The  author  above  quoted, 
has  recorded  the  singular  introduction  to  events  so 
awakening  and  abiding  in  deciding  the  destinies  of 
Europe. 

"  While  the  meeting  of  general  officers  took  place 
in  the  Rue  Chantereine — now  Victoire — and  Josephine 
expected  the  president,  Gohier,  to  breakfast,  her  son 
held  also  one  of  his  entertainments,  for  which  prepara- 
tions had  been  made  nearly  a  week  before.     Those  in- 


LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE.  151 

vited  consisted  exclusively  of  young  officers,  and  their 
meeting  was  as  gay  as  usual,  but  far  more  numerous 
Among  the  guests,  one,  distinguished  for  his  powers  of 
mimicry,  created  infinite  amusement  to  his  companions, 
by  successful  caricatures  of  the  members  of  the  Direct- 
ory. To  exhibit,  for  instance,  the  person  and  demeanor 
of  one,  he  dressed  himself  in  a  table-cloth,  draped  a  la 
Grecque,  stripped  his  black  stock,  rolled  back  his  shirt 
collar,  and  advanced  with  many  affected  graces,  lean- 
ing his  left  arm  on  the  shoulder  of  a  younger  com- 
panion, and  with  his  right  hand  stroking  his  chin 
'  Barras !  Barras !'  shouted  his  comrades,  thus  crown- 
ing his  exhibition  with  loud  applause.  But  the  repre- 
sentation is  changed:  enter  again  the  young  soldier, 
but  scarcely  to  be  recognized,  his  cravat  stuffed  with 
a  huge  roll  of  paper,  his  visage  chalked  into  squalid 
paleness,  and  elongated  to  a  most  rueful  length.  With 
all  this  meagreness  in  the  requisites  of  an  amiable,  he 
makes  it  appear  that  he  aspires  to  pass  for  accomplished, 
and  seizing  a  chair,  after  making  some  awkward  cara- 
coles, as  if  on  horseback,  down  comes  the  cavalier  with 
a  heavy  fall.  Shouts  of '  Sieyes — the  prick-eared  abbe,' 
resounds  from  all  corners  of  the  rooms,  and  the  officer 
rises  to  join  in  the  ridicule  which  he  has  excited. 
Sieyes  was  at  this  time  actually  taking  lessons  at  the 
riding-school  in  the  Luxembourg!  The  breakfast  was 
thus  an  excellent  training  for  the  grenadier  charge  in 
the  hall  of  the  deputies,  and  Eugene  knew  well  what 
he  was  about.    After  appointing  a  rendezvous  with  his 


152  UFB   OP  JOSEPHINE. 

youthful  associates  to  join  the  cortege,  he  hastened  to 
meet  his  father-in-law." 

During  these  entertainments  in  the  thronged  abode 
of  the  conqueror,  his  Conspirators  were  busy  in  the 
halls  of  government.  According  to  the  plot  of  Napo- 
leon and  Sieyes,  Regnier,  deputy  from  La  Meurthe, 
member  of  the  Council  of  the  Ancients,  after  harangues 
had  been  listened  to  upon  the  perils  and  sufferings  of 
the  country,  rose  and  proposed  that  the  sessions  of  that 
body  be  removed  to  St.  Cloud,  and  that  such  decree 
be  executed  by  Bonaparte,  conferring,  at  the  same 
time,  on  him  the  command  of  the  troops;  "under  the 
shadow  of  whose  protecting  arm,"  added  the  speaker, 
"the  Councils  may  proceed  to  discuss  the  changes 
whicn  the  public  interest  renders  necessary."  The 
motion  passed,  and  a  messenger  was  despatched  to  the 
residence  of  Napoleon.  Amid  acclamations  he  received 
the  oath  of  fidelity  from  the  officers  about  him,  and 
escorted  by  them  advanced  to  the  bar  of  the  Council 
of  the  Ancients.  He  was  the  object  of  universal 
enthusiasm  at  the  Tuilleries,  assuring  the  populace 
that  "  liberty,  victory,  and  peace,  would  soon  reinstate 
the  Republic."  He  thus  addressed  Ballot,  the  Secre- 
tary of  Barras:  "What  have  you  done  with  that 
France  I  left  you  so  splendid  ?  I  left  you  peace,  and  I 
find  you  at  war :  I  left  you  victory,  and  I  find  defeats : 
I  left  you  the  spoils  of  Italy,  and  I  find  everywhere 
oppression  and  misery.  What  have  you  done  with  a 
nundred  thousand  Frenchmen,  whom  I  knew,  all  of 
ihem  my  companions  in  glory  ?    They  are  dead.    This 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  163 

State  of  things  cannot  last ;  in  three  years  it  would  lead 
us  to  destruction.  According  to  some,  we  shall  all  be 
shortly  enemies  to  the  Republic ;  we  who  hav^  pre- 
served it  by  our  efforts  and  our  courage.  We  have  no 
occasion  for  better  patriots  than  the  brave  men  who 
shed  their  blood  in  its  defence."  The  Directory, 
alarmed,  issued  orders  to  the  Guards,  conflicting  with 
those  of  Napoleon,  which  were  treated  with  contempt. 
Thereupon,  Gohier  and  Moulins  resigned,  who,  with 
Sieyes  and  Ducos  before  them,  brought  that  conclave 
to  a  final  dissolution.  But  the  danger  was  with  the 
other  two  branches  of  representation.  No  sooner  was 
the  council  of  Five  Hundred  opened,  than  a  fierce 
debate  and  tumult  commenced,  especially  around  the 
chair  in  which  Lucien  Bonaparte  presided ;  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  year  III.  was  restored.  The  com- 
mander-in-chief saw  that  a  volcano  was  opening 
beneath  his  feet,  and  hurried  to  the  Council  of  An- 
cients, sitting  in  the  gallery  of  Mars,  to  receive  their 
co-operation  before  the  uproar  in  the  Orangery  reached 
their  chamber.  He  made  a  thrilling  speech,  full  of 
patriotic  fire  and  denunciations  of  those  who  cried 
"  outlaw  to  the  Dictator !"  The  Grenadiers  waved 
their  caps,  and  a  re-entrance  of  the  Orangery,  followed 
to  the  door  by  his  officers,  was  the  next  act  in  the 
grand  drama.  There  his  friends  were  divided,  and  the 
vote  was  called  for  upon  the  decree  of  outlawry  of 
himself.  Then  arose  cries  of  "  Death  to  the  tyrant  1" 
"  Down  with  the  Dictator !"  till  the  days  of  terrorism 
seemed  to  have  returned,  and  the  victim  ready  to  be 


154  LIFB  OF  JOSETHINB. 

offered.  Napoleon  was  disconcerted — it  was  a  new 
field  of  contest  and  threatened  death,  and  required  a 
careful  survey  before  he  could  act  with  dignity  and 
effect. 

The  Grenadiers  rallied  and  bore  him  away.  Lu- 
cien  addressed  the  soldiers  in  impetuous  style,  followed 
by  Napoleon,  who  ordered  them  to  clear  the  Hall  of 
the  Five  Hundred.  They  reached  the  entrance,  and 
hesitated ;  when  General  Leclerc  came  up  with  his 
band,  and  shouted,  "  Grenadiers  forward !"  The  drums 
beat,  and  the  glittering  bayonets  swept  the  representa- 
tives from  their  seats  ;  in  a  few  hours,  the  Legislative 
Assemblies  were  no  more,  and  Bonaparte  was  first  con- 
sul of  France.  On  the  overthrow  of  representation  had 
arisen  a  monarchy  essentially,  though  its  features  were 
not  recognized  by  the  restless  millions,  whose  imagina- 
tion invested  their  master  with  the  mysteriousness  of 
an  angelic  nature,  and  the  power  of  a  god.  Yet  was 
the  result  a  blessing,  soon  visible  in  the  physical,  civil, 
and  moral  improvement  of  the  nation.  Captives  were 
released — civil  war  suppressed,  and  order  upon  a  basis 
of  stability  unknown  during  the  entire  succession  of 
eight  predecessors  at  the  helm  of  power,  seven  years 
had  witnessed,  again  pervaded  society.  This  aspect 
of  things  was  grateful  to  Josephine,  and  still  she  some- 
times trembled  with  apprehension  as  to  the  termination 
of  this  strange  and  dizzy  ascent  to  supremacy,  mingling 
with  words  of  congratulation  the  accents  of  fear,  to 
check  the  wild  pastime  of  unconquerable  ambition  be- 
fore "it  over-leaped  itself."    About  this  time  occurred 


LIPB  OP  josephhtb.  166 

the  marriage  of  Murat,  the  bearer  of  despatches  from 
the  Campaign  of  Italy,  which  first  introduced  him  to 
the  notice  of  Josephine.  She  admired  his  mihtary  ac- 
compHshments,  and  his  gallant  deportment,  but  de- 
spised his  want  of  generosity  when  it  cost  personal 
sacrifice,  and  of  all  principle,  which  made  his  excessive 
vanity  the  more  offensive.  She  interested  herself  in 
this  affair,  because  pleasing  to  the  parties,  and  having 
a  tendency  to  efface  entirely  from  the  consul's  mind 
even  the  recollection  of  absurd  rumors  concerning 
Murat's  familiarities  with  her. 

There  is  sublimity  in  the  elevation  of  character 
which  Josephine  displayed  toward  those  whose  enmity 
spent  its  arrows  on  her  gentle  heart — a  character,  that 
like  a  silver  stream  broken  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice 
into  a  shower  of  crushed  diamonds,  was  the  most  at- 
tractive in  the  light  of  its  many  virtues,  when  the  wont- 
ed flow  of  existence  was  interrupted  by  a  great  calami- 
ty upon  herself  or  those  she  cherished,  For  illustra- 
tion, we  introduce  a  letter  to  Bonaparte  a  few  years 
later,  when  Murat's  treachery  was  disclosed  to  the  in- 
dignation of  mankind,  while  it  threw  a  portentous 
gloom  over  the  prospects  of  him,  from  whose  fraternal 
hand  the  traitor  had  received  a  crown. 

"  Sire, — I  have  this  instant  learned  that  your  sus- 
picions are  confirmed,  and  that  the  King  of  Naples,  dis- 
regarding the  most  sacred  ties  of  consanguinity  and 
gratitude,  has  joined  the  ranks  of  your  enemies.  I  have 
unfortunately  nothing  to  say  in  his  defence  ;  and  can 
find  in  my  heart  no  solace  for  the  devouring  anxiety 


%, 


166  LITE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

which  yours  must  feel :  what  stronger  proof  that  my 
own  is  without  consolation !  Still  I  cannot  be  silent ; 
there  are  those  around  you,  who,  too  ready  to  aggra- 
vate the  crime  of  the  guilty,  will  but  augment  your 
son'ow,  should  their  obsequious  counsels  lead  to  violent 
extremes.  You  know  that  I  never  have  resisted  your 
■will,  though  I  have  sometimes  had  the  courage  to  op- 
pose your  views,  and  ventured  observations  to  which 
you  rendered  justice  by  changing  your  plans,  and  adopt- 
ing those  suggested  by  a  weak  woman.  Suffer  me  still 
to  use  this  privilege.  The  King  of  Naples  is  without 
excuse.  But,  sire,  do  not  involve  his  wife  in  your  ven- 
geance, by  depriving  her  of  an  affection  to  which  she 
has  ever  attached  a  great  value,  and  which  it  would  be 
unjust  to  take  from  her,  if,  as  I  believe,  that  unhappy 
princess  is  in  all  things  opposed  to  her  husband's  crime. 
Far  from  overwhelming  her  under  the  weight  of  a  re- 
sentment which  it  is  not  probable  she  merits,  address 
yourself  to  her  heart,  that  she  may  employ  all  imagin- 
able means  to  prevent  the  king  from  injuring  you  and 
dishonoring  himself. 

"  If  things  can  no  longer  be  remedied,  and  if  you 
must  be  constrained  henceforth  to  view  as  an  enemy 
a  brother  who  owes  to  you  the  crown  which  he  is  ready 
to  disgrace — ah !  do  not  repulse  the  queen,  when  she 
will  soon  have  none  other  save  you  upon  whom  she 
can  rely;  for  you  have  often  repeated,  and  history 
proves  by  a  thousand  examples,  that  traitors  never  are 
successful  in  their  treason.  The  king,  whom  the 
hostile  powers  now  treat  as  an  ally,  will  be  sacrificed, 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHUOB,  l#f 

should  peace  with  you  be  his  price— if,  contrary  to  all 
appearances,  they  should  prove  conquerors,  Mural 
would  be  equally  the  victim ;  for  they  would  no  longer 
tolerate  a  King  whom  they  had  previously  treated  as  a 
usurper,  but  would  hurl  him  from  that  tlirone  which  he 
now  seeks  to  preserve  by  means  the  most  blamable 
and  most  impolitic,  and  even  by  baseness  itself. 

"  Pity  your  sister,  sire ;  she  has  too  much  under 
standing  not  to  have  appreciated  the  fearful  futurity 
which  hangs  over  her.  If  ever  she  should  be  unfor- 
tunate, receive  her  again  to  your  affections  ;  and  con- 
sole yourself  for  the  ingratitude  of  her  husband  by  the 
enjoyment  of  the  heartfelt  attachment  with  which 
your  moderation  will  inspire  her.  Remember,  too, 
that  if  from  the  first  impulses  even  of  a  just  indignation 
you  yield  yourself  up  to  the  stern  pleasure  of  rendering 
evil  for  evil,  the  consequences  will  eventually  affect 
your  innocent  nephews,  and  so,  sooner  or  later,  you 
must  lament  a  severity  which  will  have  cost  you 
many  tears.  Sire,  I  plead  in  your  own  interest ;  re- 
flect well  before  finally  determining.  Consult  not 
those  men  whose  facile  temper  merely  follows  all  the 
variations  of  your  own,  but  those  devoted  servants  who 
are  around  your  brave  and  royal  brother-in-arms — 
who  never  trafficked  with  their  consciences,  and  who 
would  have  preferred  even  your  displeasure  to  an  ad- 
vice that  could  compromise  honor.  Hear  madam 
your  mother.  Finally,  do  not  punish  by  your  hate 
until  it  has  been  proved  that  you  cannot  pardon. 

"  Excuse,  sire,  what  I  have  written.     The  hope  of 


158  LITB   OF   JOSEPHINE, 

one  day  beholding  you  repent  a  too  prompt  condemna- 
tion has  led  me,  perhaps,  to  displease  you.  The  con- 
sciousness of  discharging  a  duty  has  inspired  me  with 
courage  on  this  so  painful  occasion.  You  will  pardon 
a  zeal,  not  officious,  but  sincere,  which  has  induced  me 
tlius  far  to  presume  to  give  advice ;  and  you  will  say 
that  Josephine  has  never  ceased  to  be  candid  with  him 
who  of  all  men  is  the  sincerest  lover  of  that  truth 
which  yet  he  so  rarely  hears. 

"  To-morrow  I  expect  Eugene  ;  be  pleased,  sire,  to 
tell  him  if  you  forgive  me  this  letter,  written  with  the 
desire  ever  dearest  to  my  heart — of  seeing  you  happy. 
Vengeance  inflicted  where  a  sister  is  concerned,  will 
not  conduce  to  happiness  when  the  bosom,  like  yours, 
is  disposed  to  the  soft  emotions  of  fraternal  love.  Be- 
lieve me  ever,  and  preserve  for  me  the  friendship  so 
precious  to  Josephine." 

While  at  the  Luxembourg,  Bonaparte  was  absorbed 
with  plans  for  consolidating  the  new  government,  and 
raising  money  to  meet  its  expenditures.  Here  Jose- 
phine saw  him  daily,  and  probably  enjoyed  more  domes- 
tic felicity  than  at  any  other  period  of  her  life,  with 
Napoleon.  But  finding  this  republican  residence  too 
small  for  his  court  and  ambition,  he  obtained  a  removal 
of  the  Consular  domicil  to  the  Tuilleries,  although  the 
very  centre  of  kingly  associations,  and  of  that  hated 
pomp  which  the  people  had  trodden  in  the  dust  with 
the  blood  of  their  monarch.  Everything  opposed  to 
the  levelling  democracy  was  proposed  and  carried 
forward  under  disguise.     The  ancient  halls  of  royalty 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIXE.  169 

were  named  tlie  Government  Palace,  and  given  into 
the  hands  of  rulers,  whose  chief  wore  in  place  of  a 
crown  a  conqueror's  cockade,  and  for  a  sceptre  a 
sword  which  he  grasped  with  more  devotion  than 
ever  did  a  despot  the  symbol  of  power. 

The  occasion  of  this  transfer  was  one  of  great 
splendor  —  resembling  an  English  coronation  in  the 
ceremony  and  jubilant  festivity  of  the  scene.  The 
Consul's  tried  and  brave  companions-in-arms  were 
many  of  them  in  the  train  which  delighted  to  do  him 
honor.  The  troops  dashed  proudly  along  the  streets, 
the  banners  were  flung  out  on  the  breath  of  departing 
winter — and  the  swell  of  martial  music  led  on  the 
excited  cavalcade  to  the  silent  apartments  made  des- 
olate by  the  Reign  of  Terror.  Upon  their  walls  was 
engraved  in  golden  letters,  the  word  Republic — com- 
pleting the  deception  which  calmed  the  fears  of  the 
masses  unconsciously  rendering  homage  to  Jupiter, 
while  as  they  supposed  bowing  to  the  goddess  of 
liberty. 

The  evening  of  this  memorable  day  brought  the 
arena  of  Josephine's  glory.  The  spacious  drawing, 
rooms  occupied  by  her  were  crowded  by  eight  o'clock 
with  the  beauty  and  chivalry  of  France.  Foreign 
ambassadors  in  decorations  that  were  indices  of  the 
Courts  that  they  represented,  veteran  officers,  and  the 
remnant  of  an  ancient  nobility,  all  assembled  to  con- 
gratulate the  hero  of  Egypt  and  Italy,  upon  his  ac- 
cession to  the  guardianship  of  their  beloved  France. 
Beautiful  women  in  rich  apparel  and  with  jewelled 


160  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE. 

brows,  shed  the  hght  of  their  admiring  eyes  upon  the 
flashing  star,  coronet  and  plume,  that  were  the  attrac- 
tive insignia  of  greatness  in  that  gay  assembly.  The 
horrors  of  civil  war  which  for  ten  years  had  agitated 
and  ravaged  the  realm  were  forgotten — the  dead 
slumbered  in  the  covered  caves  of  their  hurried  burial — 
the  guillotine  had  ceased  to  haunt  the  ear  with  the 
ominous  echo  of  its  frequent  stroke,  and  the  nation's 
heart  beat  once  more  freely  beneath  the  protecting 
aegis  of  that  single  arm,  which  had  hewn  down  the 
riotous  mob,  annihilated  armies,  then  overthrowing  a 
miserable  government,  in  the  name  of  a  citizen  had 
taken  the  reins  of  supreme  dictation  over  a  submissive 
and  delighted  people. 

The  illusion  was  successful  that  met  their  observa- 
tion in  all  this  outward  parade.  The  fine  talents  of 
untitled  heroes,  and  the  splendor  that  outshone  the 
gaudy  machine  of  Bourbon  oppression,  pleased  ex- 
ceedingly the  multitude,  who  seemed  to  be  in  the  as- 
cendant— while  the  royalists  read  with  hope  in  this 
returning  grandeur,  the  indications  of  a  full  restoration 
of  monarchy. 

Guests  from  every  class  of  citizens,  therefore,  par- 
ticipated in  this  magnificent  entertainment,  with  unu- 
sual joy.  Josephine  attended  by  Talleyrand,  the  min- 
ister of  foreign  affairs,  entered  the  saloon  greeted  with 
the  murmur  of  universal  admiration.  Her  dress  was 
simple,  and  her  manner,  then  as  always  indeed,  per- 
fectly graceful.  The  white  muslin  of  her  apparel  like 
a  vestal   robe,  was  both  entirely  becoming  and  an 


LIPB  OF  JOSEPHINB.  tfl 

emblem  of  her  unstained  innocence  of  action.  The 
tresses  of  her  hair  fell  negligently  upon  her  neck, 
around  which  a  simple  ornament  of  pearls  threw  theii 
lustre,  and  her  features  beaming  with  benignity  made 
her  a  charming  contrast  with  the  unfortunate  wife  of 
Louis,  her  admired  predecessor.  She  received  the 
presentation  of  ambassadors  with  quiet  dignity,  and 
passed  through  the  thronged  apartments,  smiling  on 
the  company  with  the  sympathy  and  affection  of  an 
ingenuous  spirit  beneath  the  unaffected  majesty  of  a 
queen.  She  was  now  thirty-six,  but  retained  to  a  re- 
markable degree  the  freshness  and  buoyancy  of  her 
youth.  Her  tasteful  and  unostentatious  attire,  and  the 
sparkling  sweetness  of  her  conversation,  contributed 
much  to  the  manifold  attractions  she  possessed. 

"  Josephine  was  rather  above  than  below  the  middle 
size,  her's  being  exactly  that  perfection  of  stature 
which  is  neither  too  tall  for  the  delicacy  of  feminine 
proportion,  nor  so  diminutive  as  to  detract  from  dig- 
nity. Her  person,  in  its  individual  forms,  exhibited 
faultless  symmetry  ;  and  the  whole  frame,  animated  by 
lightness  and  elasticity  of  movement,  seemed  like 
something  aerial  in  its  perfectly  graceful  carriage. 
This  harmonious  ease  of  action  contributed  yet  more 
to  the  dignified,  though  still  youthful  air  so  remarkable 
in  Josephine's  appearance.  Her  features  were  small 
and  finely  modelled,  the  curves  tending  rather  to  ful- 
ness, and  the  profile  inclining  to  Grecian,  but  without 
any  statue-like  coldness  of  outline.  The  habitual 
character  of  her  countenance  was  a  placid  sweetness, 


IM  UPS  OF  JOSEPHJNS. 

within  whose  influence  there  were  few  who  would  not 
have  felt  interested  in  a  being  so  gentle.  Perhaps  the 
first  impression  might  have  left  a  feeling  that  there 
wanted  energy ;  but  this  could  have  been  for  an  in- 
stant only,  for  the  real  charm  of  this  mild  countenance 
resided  in  its  power  of  varied  expression,  changing 
with  each  vicissitude  of  thought  and  sentiment. 
'  Never,'  says  a  very  honest  admirer,  '  did  any  woman 
better  justify  the  saying,  '  The  eyes  are  the  mirror  of 
the  soul.'  Josephine's  were  of  a  deep  blue,  clear  and 
brilliant,  even  imposing  in  their  expression,  when  turn- 
ed fully  upon  any  one  ;  but  in  her  usual  manner  they 
lay  half  concealed  beneath  their  long  and  silky  eye- 
lashes. She  had  a  habit  of  looking  thus  with  a  mild 
subdued  glance  upon  those  whom  she  loved,  throwing 
into  her  regard  such  winning  tenderness  as  might  not 
easily  be  resisted,  and,  even  in  his  darkest  moods,  Na- 
poleon confessed  its  tranquillizing  power.  Realizing 
exactly  the  fine  description  of  the  old  poet,  Josephine's 

"  Long  hair  was  glossy  chestnut  brown," 

whose  sunny  richness  harmonized  delightfully  with  a 
clear  and  transparent  complexion,  and  neck  of  almost 
dazzling  whiteness.  Her  eyebrows  were  a  shade 
darker,  arching  regularly,  and  pencilled  with  extreme 
delicacy.  The  perfect  modulation  of  her  voice  has  al- 
ready been  mentioned;  it  constituted  one  of  her -most 
pleasing  attractions,  and  rendered  her  conversation, 
though  not  sparkling  with  wit  nor  remarkable  for 
strength,  but  flowing  on  in  easy  elegance  and  perfect 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE,  163 

good-nature,  the  most  captivating  that  can  easily  be 
conceived.  On  the  whole,  Josephine,  perhaps,  might 
not  exactly  have  pretensions  to  be  what  is  termed  a 
fine  woman,  but  her's  was  that  style  of  beauty  which 
awakens  in  the  heart  a  far  deeper  sentiment  than  mere 
admiration." 

Napoleon,  on  the  occasion  described,  appeared  in 
plain  uniform,  decorated  only  with  the  tri-colored  sash, 
a  simple  and  beautiful  badge  worn  with  no  less  policy 
than  taste.  A  glow  of  satisfaction  played  upon  his  pale 
features — his  noble  forehead  hung  like  a  battlement 
over  the  restless  orbs  whose  fire  flashed  with  the  ra- 
pidity of  lightning,  revealing  the  changing  hue  of 
thought,  but  not  its  secret,  mighty  workings — and 
upon  his  countenance,  meditation  as  a  mysterious 
presence  was  always  visible.  His  figure  was  rather 
diminutive,  and  he  stooped  in  walking  carelessly  with 
friends.  His  hands  were  symmetrical,  of  which  it  is 
said  he  was  particularly  vain.  Among  the  eccentric- 
ities of  his  deportment,  which  were  merely  the  peculi- 
arities of  genius  engaged  in  profound  contemplation, 
he  had  a  convulsive  shrug  of  his  right  shoulder,  mov- 
ing at  the  same  instant  his  mouth  in  that  direction. 

Bonaparte  turned  away  with  weariness  at  times 
from  the  cares  and  pleasures  of  the  Tuilleries,  and 
sought  with  Josephine  the  tranquil  scenes  of  Mal- 
maison. 

The  tenth  day  of  the  decade,  and  after  the  restora- 
tion of  the  hebdomadal  calendar,  every  Saturday  and 
Sabbath  were  passed  at  their  charmipg  villa.     Hor< 

11 


164  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

tense  had  from  the  first  acquaintance  a  great  antipathy 
toward  Napoleon — a  vague  fear  of  him  haunted  her 
continually,  which  was  only  conquered  during  this  fa- 
miliar intercourse  subsequent  to  the  consulship,  and 
rather  from  respect  to  her  mother  than  because  she 
admired  the  wonderful  man.  Such  was  his  prefer- 
ence for  this  retirement,  that  he  often  returned  to  the 
palace  with  evident  emotion — uttering  an  expression 
of  recoil  from  the  duties  of  his  official  station.  Bona- 
parte was  capable  of  absorbing  attachment,  and  social 
enjoyment,  but  his  ambition  permitted  no  obstacle  to 
lie  in  his  way — a  battalion  of  brave  soldiers,  or  a  single 
loving  heart,  offered  no  barrier  to  success ;  he  would 
sooner  drain  a  goblet  of  tears  he  made  to  flow,  than 
swerve  from  a  purpose  involving  his  glory.  This  con- 
flict of  powers  on  the  war-plain  of  the  human  soul,  is 
discernible  in  every  phase  of  his  history.  And  it 
naturally  awakened  apprehension  of  secret  enemies, 
and  the  assassin's  stroke,  which  invaded  even  the 
peace  of  his  private  abode.  He  ordered  the  remodel- 
ling and  embellishment  of  Malmaison,  which  intro- 
duced suspicious  workmen  upon  the  grounds,  shaking 
his  consciousness  of  security,  and  investing  his  cher- 
ished seclusion  with  gloomy  presentiments ;  those  pro- 
phetic shadows  of  the  future  that  always  had  force 
upon  the  mind  of  Napoleon. 

Josephine  observed  the  appearance  of  those  builders 
whose  dress  and  expression  indicated  treachery,  and 
ordered  the  utmost  vigilance  in  regard  to  their  move- 
ments.    When  the  preparations  were  finished,  and  the 


UFB  OF  J06EPHIKB.  165 

Consul  again  entered  his  apartments,  he  found  a  snuff- 
box on  his  writing-table,  placed  there  evidently  to  at- 
tract attention.  Its  similarity  to  those  he  used,  de- 
ceived him  for  a  moment,  and  he  thought  perhaps  his 
valet  had  put  the  box  there,  where  it  was  frequently 
laid.  But  a  suspicion  flashed  upon  him,  and  the  con- 
tents were  examined,  disclosing  a  subtle  and  active 
poison,  designed  to  destroy  the  illustrious  slave  to 
habit.  The  porter  of  this  mansion  added  a  guard  of 
Newfoundland  dogs,  and  caution  marked  all  the  ar- 
rangements of  the  republican  residence,  giving  it  the 
air  of  a  feudal  castle  whose  lord  was  in  jeopardy  every 
hour  from  invisible  foes.  So  it  happens  frequently 
that  the  scarred  veteran  of  numberless  battles,  will 
tremble  with  alarm  when  danger  comes  in  calmer  mo- 
ments— and  quail  before  the  stealthy,  certain  approach 
of  death.  Courage  which  appeared  sublime  while  rose 
the  stirring  notes  of 

"  Death's  music,  and  the  roar  of  combat," 

leaves  the  hero  in  tears  in  the  hour  of  despondency 
and  gloom,  which  contemplation  upon  life's  mystery 
and  the  realm  lying  beyond  awaken,  or  fears  of  a  fu- 
ture retribution  fling  upon  the  spirit. 

The  spring  of  1800  wore  away — Napoleon  saw 
everything  complete  in  the  convenience  and  beauty 
of  Malmaison.  The  heavy  debts  Josephine  accumu- 
lated in  purchasing  the  estate  and  furniture  while  he 
was  in  Egypt,  were  urged  by  the  creditors,  and  it  be- 
came necessary  to  broach  the  subject  to  the  Consul. 


M$  LtFB  07  JOSEFHIKB. 

He  was  at  first  indignant,  but  immediately  ordered 
payment,  and  soon  exhibited  his  usual  composure, 
Josephine  dissembled  in  regard  to  the  amount,  fearing 
his  displeasure,  reporting  600,000  francs  instead  of 
1,200,000,  the  sum  due,  but  which,  by  the  interposition 
of  Talleyrand,  was  reduced  to  that  moiety.  Bona- 
parte's leisure  was  filled  up  with  family  parties,  the 
entertainment  of  particular  friends,  and  evening  walks 
with  Bourrienne.  Then  came  the  correspondence 
with  England — unsuccessful  negotiations  for  peace, 
and  preparations  for  re -crossing  the  Alps  with  his 
splendid  army. 

On  the  4th  of  May  he  left  Malmaison,  and  embra- 
cing Josephine  upon  his  departure,  bade  her  adieu  with 
these  words  :  "  Courage,  my  good  Josephine !  I  shall 
not  forget  thee,  nor  will  my  absence  be  long."  Two 
days  after  he  was  reviewing  the  vanguard  of  the  Army 
of  Reserve  at  Lausanne,  consisting  of  six  tried  regi- 
ments of  his  best  troops  under  Lannes.  Immediately 
orders  were  given  for  the  whole  force,  led  by  Victor, 
Murat,  Monnier,  and  other  brave  commanders,  amount- 
ing to  36,000  men,  to  move  forward  to  St.  Pierre,  a 
hamlet  at  the  foot  of  St.  Bernard.  From  this  village 
to  St.  Remi,  over  that  gigantic  crest  of  the  Alps,  Great 
St.  Bernard,  the  route  is  environed  with  difficulties 
apparently  insurmountable,  and  which  frown  upon  the 
daring  adventurer  with  hopeless  terror.  A  survey  of 
the  fearful  ascent  resulted  in  the  decision  of  a  bare 
possibility  of  success ;  upon  which  Napoleon  said  con- 
fidently, "  Let  us  forward  then !"     The  mighty  caval- 


•  LIFE    OF   JOSEPHINE.  167 

cade  went  steadily  up  the  rugged  heights — over  preci- 
pices well-nigh  perpendicular,  dragging  the  heavy 
artillery  upon  the  trunks  of  trees  after  them,  while 
martial  music  was  poured  in  thrilling  echoes  on  the 
ear  of  the  mountain  solitude,  and  the  occasional  inter- 
lude of  a  charge  was  beaten,  to  revive  the  courage  of 
the  struggling  host.  The  eagle  left  his  eyry  to  look  on 
a  scene  that  his  flashing  eye  had  never  witnessed  be- 
fore, and  sent  down  to  the  dark  defiles  the  cry  of 
alarm ;  while  the  wild  goat  paused  in  his  flight  to 
watch  the  tortuous  advance  of  the  vast  Hydra  which 
hung  upon  the  snow-clad  declivity,  from  its  base  to  its 
cloud-covered  brow.  The  Consul  descended  the  glit- 
tering glaciers  in  a  sledge — on  the  2d  of  June  entered 
Milan  amid  the  shouts  of  the  populace,  who  supposed . 
he  was  sleeping  beneath  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea — 
and  on  the  14th  of  June  he  was  waiting  for  the  enemy 
on  the  plain  of  Marengo.  It  would  be  a  digression  to 
describe  the  memorable  battle  in  which  the  legions  of 
Austria  were  scattered ;  6000  grenadiers  who  gloried 
in  their  invinciWe  onsets,  routed  with  terrific  slaughter, 
and  which  decided  the  fate  of  Italy  by  restoring  what 
France  had  lost  during  Napoleon's  adventures  abroad. 
Conditions  of  peace  were  concluded,  and  the  Consul 
hastened  towards  Paris.  At  Lyons,  and  Dijon,  a 
storm  of  enthusiasm  followed  him — young  women  in 
groups  flung  flowers  in  his  path — and  on  the  2d  of 
July,  he  re-entered  Paris  amid  the  deafening  applause 
of  the  people. 

Josephine  had  passed   the   interval   at   Malmaison 


168  LIFK  OF  JOSEPHINE.    » 

quietly  multiplying  its  external  attractions,  arranging 
a  sort  of  private  menagerie  of  animals  sent  her  by 
Bonaparte,  or  through  his  conquests,  and  as  tokens  of 
gratitude  for  her  own  philanthropy,  from  friends  she 
had  never  seen,  in  distant  countries.  She  indulged 
also  in  the  fine  and  healthful  pastime  of  riding  on 
horseback,  in  company  with  Hortense. 

Upon  one  of  these  excursions,  Hortense's  steed  took 
fright,  and  wheeling  suddenly  around,  ran  at  full  speed. 
She  attempted  to  alight  that  she  might  relieve  her 
mother  from  alarm,  but  was  entangled  in  the  folds  of 
her  riding  habit,  and  drawn  some  distance  upon  the 
ground.  The  fair  and  excellent  equestrian  was  speed- 
ily rescued  from  danger,  and  suffered  only  slight 
bruises,  which  may  have  been  lamented  as  blemishes 
upon  her  beauty,  in  spite  of  the  mirth  that  rang  out  in 
her  laughter  upon  regaining  the  saddle.  But  the  most 
delightful  entertainment  to  Josephine,  was  the  perusal 
of  the  conqueror's  letters  from  the  Alpine  defiles  and 
the  plains  beyond.  These  bore  not  alone  tidings  of 
victory,  but,  what  is  more  precious  to  a  woman's  heart, 
the  assurance  that  nothing  effaced  her  image  from  his 
memory,  or  quenched  the  incense-flame  of  love  burn- 
ing with  increasing  intensity  upon  her  hidden  altar  of 
devotion  to  him. 

For  nearly  four  months  following  the  armistice  which 
was  concluded  on  the  15th  of  June,  Napoleon  had  lit- 
tle to  engage  his  attention  that  prevented  frequent 
visits  to  Malmaison.  By  this  time  the  nation  had  re- 
covered from  its  paroxysms  of  republicanism,  so  called, 


LITE   OJT  JOSEPHINE.  l^fi 

and  settled  back  to  order  and  decency  of  manners, 
while  refinennent  began  to  blend  with  the  amenities  of 
social  and  domestic  life.  No  one  was  more  capable  or 
willing  to  improve  the  desirable  medium  between  the 
extravagance  of  a  dissolute  aristocracy,  and  the  coarse 
equality  of  the  levelling  democracy  that  rose  on  the 
overthrow  of  the  former,  than  Josephine.  She  re- 
ceived courteously  and  •  unostentatiously  the  many 
visitors  that  frequented  her  mansion,  embracing  tne 
most  distinguished  and  cultivated  persons  of  the  realm. 
Bonaparte  appeared  happy  in  the  bosom  of  his  family, 
surrounded  by  a  band  of  ardent  friends,  and  worshipped 
by  the  multitude,  ready  to  shout  at  the  sound  of  his 
salutation,  as  did  the  admirers  of  Herod,  "  It  is  the 
voice  of  a  god !" 

He  mingled  familiarly  in  amusements  invented  to 
lend  an  agreeable  variety  to  the  pleasures  of  the  villa, 
and  delight  the  young  people  of  his  adoption.  Some- 
times a  mimic  theatre  exhibited  a  comedy  or  tragedy 
— then  a  game  of  "  prisoners"  covered  the  lawn  with  a 
scene  of  exciteynent,  pleasant  to  the  actors  as  it  was 
diverting  to  sp^ators.  Josephine  felt  besides  the  in- 
terest common  to  all,  a  mother's  pride  and  joy  in  the 
decorous  sports  of  a  son  and  blooming  daughter,  dearer 
to  her  than  existence.  She  anticii)ated  every  want, 
and  gave  6clat  to  each  brilliant  achievement  in  the  in- 
nocent pastimes  that  filled  with  sounds  of  mirth  the 
groves  of  her  peaceful  domain,  and  made  the  moonht 
landscape  a  fairy  land.  It  was  all  she  desired  to  have 
— the  sceptre  of  the  universe  could  add  nothing  to  this 


170  LIPB   OF   JOSEPlHITi. 

fruition  of  her  earthly  hopes.  The  following  is  a  de- 
scription of  one  of  these  games  : — 

"  Bonaparte  and  Josephine,  Eugene,  Hortense,  Caro- 
line Bonaparte,  Rapp,  Lauriston,  Duroc,  Isabey,  wiih 
Bourrienne,  and  a  few  other  confidential  retainers,  di- 
vided into  two  camps,  as  they  were  termed  ;  and,  when 
nothing  pressed,  the  sport  often  continued  for  hours. 
The  best  runners  were  Eugene  and  his  sister ;  but 
Bonaparte  in  the  selection  of  partisans  always  chose 
Josephine,  never  suffering  her  to  be  in  any  camp  but 
his  own.  When  by  chance  she  happened  to  be  taken 
prisoner,  he  always  seemed  uneasy  till  she  was  released, 
making  all  exertions  for  that  purpose,  though  a  bad 
runner  himself,  often  coming  down  in  mid  career  with 
a  heavy  fall  on  the  grass.  Up  again,  however,  he  start- 
ed, but  usually  so  convulsed  with  laughter  that  he  could 
not  possibly  move,  and  the  affair  generally  ended  in  his 
captivity.  When  placed  in  durance,  or  when  Jose- 
phine had  been  taken,  he  kept  constantly  calling  out  to 
his  party,  *  A  rescue !  a  rescue !'  clapping  his  hands, 
shouting  to  encourage  the  runners,  and  in  short,  ex- 
hibiting  all  the  ardor  of  a  boy  at  play.  When  we  find 
the  conqueror  at  Mai-engo,  the  restorer  of  France,  thus 
yielding  to  the  kindly  promptings  of  harmless  mirth  in 
the  bosom  of  his  family,  we  almost  forget  his  real 
character." 

But  as  Kapoleon  had  the  stern  duties  of  state  tc 
occupy  the  hours  chiefly,  and  enlist  his  unslumbering 
energies,  so  Josephine  never  forgot  her  higher  obliga- 
tions to  the  suffering  who  needed  her  interposition,  or 


MFE  OP  JOSEPHHTE.  VMT 

the  poor  who  asked  for  alms.*  Especially  did  she  give 
the  whole  weight  of  her  influence  to  the  aid  of  those 
exiles  from  their  country  and  families,  who  were  driven 
by  the  waves  of  revolution  to  foreign  shores.  When- 
ever there  was  hope  of  restoration,  her  efforts  were 
unwearied  to  attain  the  object — the  only  reward  desir- 
ed, was  the  rapture  of  the  meeting,  when  the  father 
crossed  the  threshold  of  the  sanctuary  from  which  he 
had  been  rudely  torn.  But  sometimes  she  was  denied 
even  this — the  ancestral  halls  of  the  returning  captives 
in  many  instances  were  in  the  possession  of  strangers, 
and  her  benevolence  was  farther  engaged  in  securing 
a  home  for  the  friendless. 

Josephine's  active  sympathy  for  the  afflicted,  and 
her  deep  acquaintance  with  the  human  heart,  are  dis- 
played affectingly  in  an  incident  connected  with  the 
Decrest  family,  who  were  restored  to  their  country  by 
her  mediation.  A  nephew  of  the  marquis,  who  was 
a  young  officer  of  some  distinction,  was  killed  at  the 
national  festival  celebrated  soon  after  the  formation  of 
the  consulate  by  the  accidental  explosion  of  a  rocket. 
He  was  an  only  son,  and  his  father  gave  himself  up  to 
hopeless  grief.  Upon  the  following  day.  Madam  Mon- 
tesson,  the  friend  of  Josephine,  and  a  relative  of  Decrest, 
invited  the  bereaved  family  to  her  house.  But  nothing 
could  relieve  the  rayless  gloom  of  a  father's  mourning ; 
he  was  unmoved  by  the  accents  of  condolence,  or  en- 
treaties of  loved  ones,  who  feared  that  a  fixed  insanity 
or  sudden  death  would  be  the  result  of  his  wild  sor- 
row. 

H 


J$12  UPK   OF  JOSEPnilTB. 

Josephine  entered  the  •apartment,  and  gazed  a  mo- 
ment on  the  scene  of  anguish,  and  silently  prepared  to 
break  the  spell  of  despair  that  darkened  every  mo- 
ment upon  the  spirit  of  the  chief  mourner.  Taking  his 
eldest  daughter  by  the  hand,  she  led  the  weeping  child 
to  his  knee,  then  raised  the  youngest,  a  smiling  infant, 
in  her  arms,  while  she  knelt  in  the  eloquence  of  a 
grieving  angel  before  him.  He  started,  looked  half  un- 
consciously on  the  group,  then  his  eye  brightened  in 
the  midst  of  rising  tears,  his  lips  quivered,  and  in  an- 
other instant  he  wept  in  their  embrace.  The  fountain 
of  parental  affection  was  unsealed  again,  and  invoking 
a  blessing  on  his  deliverer,  he  rose  to  life  from  the  very 
shadow  of  death. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year  1800,  conspiracies 
thickened  around  the  First  Consul.  Among  the  most 
threatening,  were  that  of  Ceracchi,  on  the  part  of  the 
revolutionary  mob,  and  the  3d  Nivose,  by  the  royal- 
ists. The  former  was  matured  by  one  Harrel,  Arena, 
Topino-Lebrun,  and  Demerville,  and  the  time  of  ac- 
tion was  appointed  upon  an  evening  when  the  Consul 
designed  to  visit  the  opera.  Harrel  betrayed  his  ac- 
complices, but  the  disclosure  was  not  known  to  them 
till  their  arrangements  were  completed,  and  Napoleon 
was  seated  with  Duroc  at  the  opera ;  when  they  were 
arrested  in  the  lobby  and  hurried  to  prison.  Thi§ 
treacherous  conspirator  was  rewarded  with  the  appoint- 
ment of  commandant  of  Vincennes,  which  post  he  held 
when  Duke  d'Eeghien  fell  by  the  assassin's  thrust  in 
that  prison.     This  plot  occurred  the  first  of  October. 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIKB.  1^ 

About  three  months  afterward  that  of  the  3d  Nivose, 
a  more  deeply  laid  and  fearful  conspiracy,  was  formed 
— whose  actors  invented  and  built  that  engine  of  death, 
memorable  as  the  infernal  machine.  The  3d  Nivose 
was  the  21st  December,  on  the  evening  of  which  the 
performance  of  Haydn's  splendid  Oratorio  of  the 
Creation  was  to  take  place.  Bonaparte  had  mentioned 
his  intention  of  attending  the  Concert  with  his  family. 
He  rode  in  company  with  Lannes,  Berthier,  and  Lau- 
riston,  while  General  Rapp  in  another  carriage  escorted 
Josephine  and  her  children.  Upon  reaching  the  middle 
of  the  street  St.  Nicaise,  a  narrow  way  leading  from 
the  Tuilleries,  a  terrible  explosion  blew  twenty  persons 
into  the  air,  wounded  sixty  more,  and  threw  two  or 
three  dwellings  from  their  foundation,  buryinjr  the  dead 
beneath  their  fragments. 

The  following  is  General  Rapp's  own  account  of  the 
entire  scene  and  the  destructive  agency  employed  by 
the  Jacobins,  as  the  Consul  believed : — 

"  The  affair  of  the  infernal  machine  has  never  been 
properly  understood  by  the  public.  The  police  had 
intimated  to  Napoleon,  that  an  attempt  would  be  made 
against  his  life,  and  cautioned  him  not  to  go  out. 
Madam  Bonaparte,  Mademoiselle  Beauharnais,  Madam 
Murat,  Lannes,  Bessieres,  the  aid-de-camp  on  duty, 
and  Lieutenant  Lebrun,  now  Duke  of  Placenza,  were 
all  assembled  in  the  saloon,  while  the  First  Consul  was 
writing  in  his  closet. 

"Haydn's  Oratorio  was  to  be  performed  thiat  even- 
ing:  the  ladies  were  anxious  to  hear  the  music,  and 


%74  LIFB  OP  JOSEPHDTE, 

we  also  expressed  a  wish  to  that  effect.  The  escort 
picquet  was  ordered  out ;  and  Lannes  requested  Napo- 
leon would  join  the  party.  He  consented ;  his  carriage 
was  ready,  and  he  took*  along  with  him  Bessieres  and 
the  aid-de-camp  on  duty.  I  was  directed  to  attend 
the  ladies.  Josephine  had  received  a  magnificent 
ehawl  from  Constantinople,  and  she  that  evening  wore 
it  for  the  first  time.  '  Allow  me  to  observe.  Madam,' 
said  I,  '  that  your  shawl  is  not  thrown  on  with  your 
usual  elegance.'  She  good-humoredly  begged  that  I 
would  fold  it  after  the  fashion  of  the  Egyptian  ladies. 
While  I  was  engaged  in  this  operation,  we  heard 
Napoleon  depart.  '  Come,  sister,'  said  Madam  Murat, 
who  was  impatient  to  get  to  the  theatre,  '  Bonaparte  is 
going.'  We  stepped  into  the  carriage  •  the  First  Con- 
sul's equipage  had  already  reached  the  middle  of  the 
Place  Carrousel.  We  drove  after  it;  but  we  had 
scarcely  entered  the  Place,  when  the  machine  exploded. 
Napoleon  escaped  by  a  singular  chance.  Saint-Re- 
gent, or  his  French  servant,  had  stationed  himself  in 
the  middle  of  the  Rue  Nicaise.  A  grenadier  of  the 
escort,  supposing  he  was  really  what  he  appeared  to 
be,  a  water-carrier,  gave  him  a  few  blows  with  the  flat 
of  his  sabre,  and  drove  him  off.  The  cart  was  turned 
around,  and  the  machine  exploded  between  the  car- 
riages of  Napoleon  and  Josephine.  The  ladies  shrieked 
on  hearing  the  report ;  the  carriage  windows  were 
broken,  and  Mademoiselle  Beauharnais  received  a 
slight  hurt  on  her  hand.  I  alighted,  and  crossed  the 
Rue  Nicaise,  which  was  strewed  with  the  bodies  of 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  ^^^« 

those  who  had  been  thrown  down,  and  the  fragmentt 
of  the  walls  that  had  been  shattered  by  the  explosion. 
Neither  the  Consul  nor  any  individual  of  his  suite  sus- 
tained any  serious  injury.  Wheti  I  entered  the  theatre, 
Napoleon  was  seated  in  his  box,  calm  and  composed, 
and  looking  at  the  audience  through  his  opera-glass. 
Fouche  was  beside  him.  '  Josephine,'  said  he,  as  soon 
as  he  observed  me.  She  entered  at  that  moment,  and 
he  did  not  finish  his  question.  *  The  rascals,'  said  he, 
very  coolly,  '  wanted  to  blow  me  up.  Bring  me  a  book 
cf  the  Oratorio.'  " 

Again  Josephine's  destiny  turned  on  apparently  an 
unimportant  event.  The  delay  occasioned  by  her 
pleasantry  about  a  beautiful  shawl,  doubtless  saved  her 
from  the  unseen  ruin,  in  which  so  many  perished. 
Another  letter  from  her  to  Fouche,  minister  of  police, 
after  the  execution  of  the  leaders  in  the  diabolical  de- 
sign, and  sentence  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  more  of 
the  suspected  to  transportation  for  life,  again  exhibits 
her  greatness  of  soul  and  gushing  tenderness  for  the 
suflTering,  whether  made  by  their  own  guilt  or  that  of 
another. 

"Citizen  Minister, — While  I  yet  tremble  at  the 
frightful  event  which  has  just  occurred,  I  am  disquieted 
^nd  distressed,  through  fear  of  the  punishment  neces- 
sarily to  be  inflicted  on  the  guilty,  who  belong,  it  is 
said,  to  families  with  whom  I  once  lived  in  habits  of 
intercourse.  I  shall  be  solicited  by  mothers,  sisters, 
and  disconsolate  wives ;   and  my  heart  will  be  broken, 


%176  LIFB   OF  JOSEPniXE. 

through  my  inability  to  obtain  all  the  mercy  for  which 
I  could  plead. 

"  I  know  that  the  clemency  of  the  First  Consul  is . 
great,  his  attachment  tcf  me  extreme ;  but  the  crime  is 
too  dreadful,  that  terrible  examples  should  not  be 
necessary.  The  chief  of  the  government  has  not  been 
alone  exposed ;  and  it  is  that  which  will  render  him 
severe — inflexible.  I  conjure  you,  therefore,  citizen 
minister,  to  do  all  that  lies  in  your  power  to  prevent 
inquiries  being  pushed  too  far.  Do  not  detect  all  those 
persons  who  may  have  been  accomplices  in  these 
odious  transactions.  Let  not  France,  so  long  over- 
whelmed in  consternation  by  public  executions,  groan 
anew  beneath  such  inflictions.  It  is  ever  better  to 
endeavor  to  soothe  the  public  mind,  than  to  exasperate 
men  by  fresh  terrors.  In  short,  when  the  ringleaders 
in  this  abominable  attempt  shall  have  been  secured,  let 
severity  give  place  to  pity  for  inferior  agents,  seduced, 
as  they  may  have  been,  by  dangerous  falsehoods,  or 
exaggerated  opinions. 

"  When  just  invested  with  supreme  power,  the  First 
Consul,  as  seems  to  me,  ought  rather  to  gain  hearts 
than  be  exhibited  as  ruling  slaves.  Soften  by  your 
counsels  whatever  may  be  too  violent  in  his  just  re- 
sentment. Punish — alas !  that  you  must  certainly  do. 
— but  pardon  still  more.  Be  also  the  support  of  those 
unfortunate  men,  who,  by  frank  avowal,  or  repentance 
shall  expiate  a  portion  of  their  crime. 

"  Having  myself  narrowly  escaped  perishing  in  the 
Revolution,  you  must  regard  as  quite  natural  my  inter 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  177 

ference  in  behalf  of  those  who  can  be  saved  without 
involving  in  new  danger  the  life  of  my  husband,  pre- 
cious to  me  and  to  France.  On  this  account,  do,  I 
entreat  you,  make  a  wide  distinction  between  the  au- 
thors of  the  crime,  and  those  who,  through  weakness 
or  fear,  have  consented  to  take  a  part  therein.  As  a 
woman,  a  wife,  and  a  mother,  I  must  feel  the  heart- 
rendings  of  those  that  will  apply  to  me.  Act,  citizen 
minister,  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  number  of  these 
may  be  lessened.  This  will  spare  me  much  grief 
Never  will  1  turn  away  from  the  supplications  of  mis- 
fortune ;  but,  in  the  present  instance,  you  can  do  in- 
finitely more  than  I,  and  will,  on  this  account,  excuse 
my  importunity.  Rely  on  my  gratitude  and  esteem." 
Soon  after  this  bold  attempt  to  destroy  the  Consul, 
Hortense  was  married  to  his  brother  Louis.  It  was 
one  of  the  many  instances  of  an  unfortunate  union,  in 
the  consummation  of  which  interested  friends  were  the 
responsible  agents.  Hortense  loved  Duroc,  an  ambi- 
tious marshal  of  thirty — the  first  choice  of  Louis  is  not 
known.  The  ceremony  was  solemnized  January  2d, 
1802,  when  she  was  eighteen,  and  Louis  Bonaparte 
twenty-four.  He  was  good-looking,  and  amiable  in 
his  youth ;  but  disease  fastened  upon  his  frame,  and  in 
both  of  these  respects  wrought  sad  changes.  He  re- 
sembled, it  was  thought,  the  Queen  of  Naples,  his  sister- 
in  the  expression  of  his  face,  when  her  countenance 
was  in  repose.  Caring  less  for  power,  and  more  for 
case,  than  Napoleon,  he  scarcely  thanked  him  for  the 
throne  of  Holland,  whose  damp  and  ungenial  atmos- 


178  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIIO:. 

phere  made  havoc  with  a  system  accustomed  to  the 
bland  air,  and  lovely  sky  of  Italy.  When  setting  out 
for  that  country,  he  said  to  the  Consul,  in  regard  to 
certain  commands — "  I  will  do  what  I  like.  Let  me 
act  freely,  or  let  me  remain  here.  I  will  not  go  to 
govern  a  country  where  I  shall  be  known  only  by 
disaster." 

Hortense  was  an  interesting  woman — gifted  with  a 
clear  intellect  which  had  received  constant  culture — 
graceful  and  accomplished,  she  was  admired  and  be- 
loved. "  She  was  not  exactly  beautiful ;  for  the  con- 
formation of  her  mouth  and  her  teeth  which  rather 
projected,  took  away  from  the  regularity  of  a  counte- 
nance otherwise  very  pleasing  in  all  its  sweetness  and 
benignity  of  expression.  Her  eyes,  like  her  mother's, 
were  blue,  her  complexion  clear,  and  her  hair  of  a 
charming  blond.  In  stature  she  did  not  exceed  the 
middle  size ;  but  her  person  was  beautifully  formed." 
It  is  not  singular  that  Josephine  urged  this  marriage, 
and  omitted  nothing  that  might  secure  the  object. 
She  disliked  the  coldness  of  Duroc,  and  the  absence 
of  all  distinction  excepting  as  conferred  by  Napoleon ; 
and  what  was  of  vastly  more  importance,  she  knew 
the  Consul  loved  Louis,  and  the  alliance  would  create 
strength  in  the  very  bosom  of  secret  foes.  She  was 
hated  by  the  Bonaparte  family  generally,  and  in  this 
event  she  anticipated  a  new  source  of  hope  and  power 
against  her  detractors.  But  all  these  considerations 
are  scarcely  sufficient  to  give  plausibility  to  so  serious 
a  violation  of  the  very  law  and  impulses  of  our  nature. 


LIFB   OF  J0SEPHI5TB,'  IW 

Neither,  when  married,  cherished  affection  for  each 
other — their  mutual  kindness  was  rather  the  civility  of 
respect,  than  the  expression  of  attachment.  Upon  the 
bridal  occasion,  seven  hundred  invitations  were  issued, 
and  the  saloons  of  the  Tuilleries  were  thronged  with 
guests  from  the  most  brilliant  ranks  of  society.  Am- 
bassadors were  looking  on,  or  smiling  gallantly  on  the 
queenly  forms  with  which  they  were  encircled,  and  all 
were  intoxicated  with  pleasure  but  the  bride.  Arrayed 
gorgeously,  sparkling  with  diamonds  and  crowned 
with  flowers,  she  strove  vainly  to  hide  the  heavy  sad- 
ness upon  her  heart.  To  every  observant  eye,  that 
central  star  was  under  a  fearful  eclipse — the  world  of 
thought  was  dark  and  desolate.  She  shone  on  others 
with  a  mockery  of  light,  that  made  the  gloom  within 
the  deeper.  Fair  victim !  like  an  Eastern  sacrifice  to 
the  grim  idol,  she  stood  before  the  altar  an  offering  to 
the  god  of  ambition.  A  purer  motive  is  sought  for 
than  either  which  has  been  supposed,  in  the  desire  of 
Josephine  to  repel  the  slander  that  had  obtained  to 
some  extent  concerning  Bonaparte's  dishonorable  love 
for  Hortense.  This  malignant  calumny  might  have 
affected  that  noble  mother,  and  entered  into  her  esti- 
mate  of  results.  But  doubtless  Josephine,  who  certainly 
admired  Louis  more  than  Duroc  in  almost  every  point 
of  charilcter,  believed  that  the  mutual  dislike  which 
arose  chiefly  from  previous  attachments  would  dis- 
appeat  in  the  intimacies  of  domestic  life.  In  the 
following  letter  she  refers  to  the  detraction,  and  the 
want  of  devotion  to  each  other  visible  in  the  wedded  pair. 


12  H 


# 


180  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHIIO:. 


JOSEPHINE    TO    HORTENSE. 


"  You  have  ill  understood  me,  my  child ;  there  is 
nothing  equivocal  in  my  word,  as  there  cannot  exist  an 
uncandid  sentiment  in  my  heart.  How  could  you 
conceive  that  I  participate  in  some  ridiculous,  or  per- 
haps, malicious  opinions  ?  No !  you  do  not  think  that 
I  believe  you  to  be  my  rival.  We,  indeed,  both  reign 
in  the  same  bosom,  though  by  very  different  yet  equally 
sacred  rights  ;  and  they  who  in  the  affection  which  my 
husband  manifests  for  you,  have  pretended  to  discover 
other  sentiments  than  those  of  a  parent  and  a  friend, 
know  not  his  soul.  He  is  a  mind  too  elevated  above 
the  vulgar  ever  to  be  accessible  to  the  passions.  That 
of  glory,  if  you  will,  engrosses  him  too  entirely  for  our 
repose ;  but,  at  least  glory  inspires  nothing  vile.  Such, 
as  touching  him,  is  my  profession  of  faith.  I  make  the 
confession  to  you  in  all  sincerity,  in  order  to  allay  your 
inquietudes.  When  I  recommended  to  you  to  love,  or 
at  least,  not  to  repulse  Louis,  I  spoke  to  you  in  my 
character  of  an  experienced  wife,  an  attentive  mother, 
and  tender  friend,  and  in  this  threefold  relation  do  I 
now  embrace  you." 

A  mother's  expostulations  were  unavailing — the  cup 
of  sorrow  taken  at  the  hymeneal  altar  was  pressed  to 
her  lips  partly  by  her  own  hand,  and  death  only 
removed  the  poisoned  chalice.  There  is  touching 
melancholy  in  such  a  fate ;  a  bright,  loving  maiden, 
whose  girlhood  was  an  ordeal  of  trial  seldom  endured 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  181 

by  any  human  sufferer,  just  as  life  began  to  put  on  its 
radiant  smile,  and  beckon  her  toward  the  luminous 
future  ;  her  sky  was  overcast,  and  she  trod  a  pathway 
strewn  with  withered  hopes  and  wet  with  her  tears. 

Allusion  has  been  made  to  Josephine's  expectation 
of  a  speedy  oblivion  of  whatever  threatened  the  do- 
mestic happiness  of  her  daughter;  this  appears  more 
fully  in  a  note  to  her  daughter  after  the  birth  of  a  son. 

"  What  I  learned  eight  days  ago  gave  me  the  greatest 
pain ;  what  I  observe  to-day  confirms  and  augments 
my  sorrow.  Why  show  to  Louis  this  repugnance  ? 
Instead  of  rendering  him  more  ungracious  still  by 
caprice,  by  inequality  of  character,  why  do  you  not 
rather  make  efforts  to  surmount  your  indifference? 
But,  you  will  say,  he  is  not  amiable !  All  that  is 
relative.  If  not  in  your  eyes,  he  may  appear  so  to 
others ;  and  all  women  do  not  view  him  through  the 
medium  of  dislike.  As  for  myself,  who  am  here 
altogether  disinterested,  I  imagine  I  behold  him  as  he 
is — more  loving,  doubtless,  than  lovable  ;  but  this  is  a 
great  and  rare  quality  :  generous,  beneficent,  feeling, 
and  above  all,  an  excellent  father — if  you  so  willed,  he 
would  prove  a  good  husband !  His  melancholy,  his 
love  of  study  and  retirement,  injure  him  in  your 
estimation.  For  these,  I  ask  you,  is  he  to  blame  ?  Is 
he  obliged  to  conform  his  nature  to  circumstances  ? 
Who  could  have  predicted  to  him  his  fortune  ?  But, 
according  to  you,  he  has  not  even  the  courage  to  bear 
that  fortune  ?  This  I  believe  to  be  an  error ;  but  he 
certainly  wants  the  strength.     With  his  ascetic  in- 


182  LIPB   OF   JOSEPHINB. 

clinations,  his  invincible  desire  of  retirement  and  study- 
he  finds  himself  misplaced  in  the  elevated  rank  to 
which  he  has  attained.  You  desire  that  he  should 
imitate  his  brother ;  give  him  first  of  all,  the  same 
temperament.  You  have  not  failed  to  remark,  that 
almost  our  entire  existence  depends  upon  our  health, 
and  that  upon  our  digestion.  Let  poor  Louis  digest 
better,  and  you  would  find  him  more  amiable.  But  such 
as  he  is,  that  can  be  no  reason  for  abandoning  him,  or 
making  him  feel  the  unbecoming  sentiment  with  which 
he  inspires  you.  Do  you,  whom  I  have  seen  so  kind, 
continue  to  be  so  at  the  moment  when  it  is  precisely 
more  than  ever  necessary.  Take  pity  on  a  man  who 
has  to  lament  that  he  possesses  what  would  constitute 
another's  happiness,  and  before  condemning  him  think 
of  others,  who,  like  him,  have  groaned  beneath  the 
burden  of  iheir  greatness,  and  bathed  with  their  tears 
that  diadem  which  they  believed  had  never  been 
destined  for  their  brow." 

Duroc  married  a  Spanish  heiress,  unattractive  both 
in  person  and  temper.  He  was  evidently  controlled 
in  his  choice  by  the  fortune  it  secured,  and  lived  as 
wretchedly  as  he  deserved — "  a  gilded  slave" — a  self- 
ish, disappointed,  and  miserable  man,  when  away  from 
the  "  glory  and  the  guilt  of  war." 

So  does  greatness  fail  to  confer  happiness.  In  the 
instances  here  given,  how  utterly  incompetent  was 
earth  to  bestow  the  boon  for  which  the  soul  is  ever 
struggling — contentment — ^how  often  a  troubled  brain 


LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE.  188 

throbs  beneath  a  coronet,  and  a  heart  breaks  silently 
beneath  a  jewelled  robe ! 

Napoleon  now  improved  the  interval  of  peace,  in 
tranquillizing  and  establishing  firmly  the  Cis-alpine  Re- 
public. Whether  in  securing  the  selection  of  himself 
for  President  of  the  Italian  commonwealth  he  was  gov- 
erned altogether  by  his  aspirations  for  power,  or  under 
the  impression  that  he  alone  could  consolidate  and 
guard  what  he  had  formed,  is  a  theme  of  opposite  opin- 
ions. Doubtless  there  was  a  blending  of  motives  in 
the  design.  Bonaparte  had  no  confidence  in  the 
masses,  and  unbounded  self-reliance ;  besides,  his  am- 
bition was  never  chastened  by  a  sense  of  religious  ob- 
ligation, but  inflamed  by  universal  applause  attending 
success  which  seemed  miraculous.  How  could  it  be 
otherwise  than  that  he  should  be  possessed  with  the 
idea,  he  is  said  to  have  expressed  to  Josephine  in  the 
palace  of  the  Tuilleries  ?  "  Behold  a  palace  without 
nobles  ;  in  time  I  intend  to  render  it  worthy  of  his  pal- 
ace, who  is  yet  to  become  the  master  and  arbiter  of 
the  world."  The  meeting  of  deputies  was  held  at  Ly- 
ons, in  January,  1802 ;  and  on  the  26th  of  that  month, 
he  received  the  title  of  "  President  of  the  Cis-alpine 
Republic." 

Here  he  met  the  wreck  of  his  valiant' army  of  the 
East.  The  surviving  officers  of  those  regiments,  thin- 
ned more  by  fatal  disease  than  the  enemy's  bullets, 
gathered  once  more  around  their  leader.  Greetings 
were  exchanged,  and  tears  fell  from  cheeks  fuiTowed 
with  age  and  toil,  while  the  pavement  beneath,  seemed 


184  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

to  tremble  to  the  shock  of  their  deadly  onset  upon  the 
gallant  Mamelukes ;  and  the  mighty  pyramids  like  gi- 
gantic sentinels,  rose  upon  their  vision,  as  when  Na- 
poleon exclaimed,  just  before  the  resistless  charge, 
"  Soldiers,  from  the  summit  of  yonder  pyramids  forty 
ages  behold  you !" 

Bonaparte  returned  to  Paris,  his  soaring  genius  in 
dulging  a  transient  repose  upon  the  height  in  his  path- 
way of  greatness,  he  had  just  gained  by  a  single  stride, 
and  gazed  with  prophetic  eye  along  the  upward  track 
to  an  eminence  whose  solitary  grandeur  would  bewil- 
der the  hero  of  common  mould. 

This  additional  honor  was  followed  by  a  renewal  of 
those  magnificent  entertainments  which  succeeded  his 
Consular  coronation.  Josephine  was  in  the  full  en- 
joyment of  domestic  peace — interrupted  only  by  the 
parade  of  court,  and  solicitude  for  the  safety  of  Na- 
poleon and  the  happiness  .^f  her  children.  Malmaison 
became  her  residence  for  weeks  together,  where  her 
pleasures  were  multiplied,  and  made  more  intense  by 
the  absence  of  ceremony  and  the  crowd  of  parasites 
that  haunt  the  halls  of  royalty.  There  were  often 
amusing  applications  for  aid  by  those  who  had  been 
in  some  way  associated  with  the  "  little  Corsican,"  in 
former  days.  Among  these  was  his  writing  master 
while  at  Brienne.  Josephine  was  in  the  cabinet  when 
the  poor  professor,  in  thread-bare  apparel,  entered. 
After  an  awkward  pause,  with  an  effort  that  called 
forth  all  his  courage,  he  announced  himself  to  tne 
Consul.     With  a  frown  and  an  excited  air,  Bonaparte 


LIFE  OP  josephin:^.  188 

exclaimed,  "  And  a  proper  penman  you  made  of  me ! 
Ask  my  wife  there."  Josephine  with  a  laugh  made  a 
pleasant  allusion  to  the  delightful  letters  she  had  re- 
ceived, and  the  matter  passed  off  in  a  glee ;  while  the 
order  for  a  pension  during  life  was  dropped  into  the 
hand  of  the  wondering  visitor. 

As  spring  came  on  with  its  freshening  landscape, 
its  gentle  south  wind,  and  its  laughing  sky,  the  Consul, 
accompanied  with  Josephine,  made  a  tour  through 
Normandy  and  the  adjacent  provinces.  Her  last  visit 
to  that  part  of  France  was  made  with  the  chivalrous 
Beauharnais,  and  the  years  since  that  excursion,  had 
gone  full  of  events  that  gave  to  life  a  sublime  and  trag- 
ical interest.  With  deep  and  conflicting  emotions, 
her  thoughts  attended  memory  to  the  silent  strand  of 
the  past — upon  whose  sands  were  the  wrecks  of  for- 
tune, blasted  hopes,  and  the  fading  footsteps  of  the 
loved  and  departed.  But  her  bounding  spirit  could 
not  long  be  desolate  or  sad.  There  were  bright  hours 
in  this  romantic  travel,  and  bursts  of  enthusiasm  from 
the  people  wherever  they  were  recognized,  that  lent  a 
charm  to  the  tour,  continued  for  more  than  two  weeks 
through  a  country  picturesque  and  peaceful ;  contrast- 
ing delightfully  with  the  exciting  scenes  of  the  few 
months  before. 

Not  long  after  their  return,  an  incident  which  oc- 
curred, illustrates  finely  that  coolness  for  which  Duroc 
was  distinguished,  a  trait  Bonaparte  admired  and 
praised.^  The  First  Consul  had  removed  his  residence 
to  St.  Cloud,  and  furnished  the  palace  in  splendid  style. 


IW  UCFK   OF  JOSEPHUCK. 

One  night,  fire  communicating  through  a  flue  into  the 
saloon,  from  an  overheated  stove,  set  the  grand  old 
structure  in  flames.  An  officer  awakened  Duroc,  who 
saw  the  conflagration,  and  ordering  perfect  silence, 
arranged  a  band  of  soldiers  into  the  line  of  a  fire  com- 
pany, running  to  the  nearest  water.  Leaping  into  the 
reservoir,  his  men  followed,  and  the  buckets  passed  with 
no  other  sound  than  the  rustle  of  hands  rapidly  along 
the  chain  of  men,  till  the  ascending  column  of  flame 
wavered  and  fell ;  within  three  hours  all  was  quiet  and 
safe  again.  The  inmates  of  the  edifice  were  not  dis- 
turbed, and  Josephine  entered  her  gorgeous  drawing- 
room  in  the  morning  to  gaze  with  astonishment  on  the 
blackened  and  flooded  ruins. 

Events  of  decisive  importance  in  the  history  of 
France  and  the  career  of  Napoleon,  now  rapidly  fol- 
lowed each  other.  The  concordate  re-established  the 
church ;  the  addition  of  ten  years  to  the  consulship, 
and  the  creation  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  upon  the  very 
ruins  of  institutions  aristocratic  in  their  character, 
were  successive  steps  in  the  progress  of  the  nation 
towards  monarchy,  and  of  Bonaparte  to  its  crown  and 
sceptre.  The  opening  of  the  sanctuaries  for  religious 
worship  was  wholly  a  stroke  of  policy  in  the  First  Con- 
sul. It  was  a  nieasure  repulsive  to  his  army,  but  he 
knew  his  influence  too  well  in  that  quarter  to  shrink 
from  enlisting  an  auxiliary,  which  had  proved  to  be  a 
wall  of  fire  around  the  despotic  sovereigns  of  Europe. 
He  attended  mass  at  Notre  Dame,  with  the  devout  air 
of  a  monk,  conciliating  his  colleague  Cambaceres,  by 


LTPE  OF  josEPHnrau  187 

appointing  his  brother  to  the  See  of  Rouen,  and  dis- 
pensing similar  emoluments  where  moral  considera- 
tions had  no  influence,  and  infidelity  poured  contempt 
upon  the  "superstitious  mania."  Josephine,  though 
the  religious  element  was  not  marked  in  her  character, 
entered  into  this  measure  with  zeal,  conscious  of  its 
value  as  a  means  of  benevolence,  and  of  bringing  back 
the  exiled  to  their  homes,  while  the  impoverished 
priesthood,  scattered  and  scorned,  would  also  regain 
their  privileges,  and  permanency  succeed  the  fluctua- 
tions in  Church  and  State, 

But  none  of  the  changes  wrought  by  the  fearless  and 
indomitable  spirit  of  Napoleon,  conferred  upon  him 
more  strength  in  his  pre-eminence;  than  the  ratifica- 
tion of  peace  with  England,  by  the  treaty  of  Amiens, 
signed  April  25th,  virtually  conceding  to  him  the  gov- 
ernment of  Republican  France.  It  introduced  the 
English  ambassadors  to  his  Court,  and  other  distin- 
guished persons  of  the  British  realm.  The  impression 
Josephine  made  on  these  social  occasions,  was  men- 
tioned by  her  noble  guests  in  after  years  with  enthusi- 
astic pleasure.  Mr.  Fox,  especially,  was  much  de- 
lighted, as  he  was  in  turn  admired  for  his  simplicity  of 
manner,  and  his  resplendent  talents.  In  the  evening 
parties  at  Malmaison,  he  was  always  a  guest,  convers 
ing  freely  with  Napoleon,  or  walking  through  the 
Botanical  gardens  with  Josephine,  where  his  taste  was 
particularly  gratified,  and  its  suggestions  sought  by  the 
smiling  May  Queen  of  the  gay  parterre,  leaning  upon 
his  arm.     So  far  did  the  Consul  rely  upon  the  ambas- 


188  Lira!  OF  /06EPHIIOB. 

sador's  friendship,  that  he  evidently  anticipated  in  suV 
sequent  hostilities,  the  sympathy  of  the  party  of  which 
Mr.  Fox  was  the  leader — a  mistake  he  quickly  dis- 
covered when  threatened  invasion  appealed  to  the  loy- 
alty of  the  nation — aroused  the  Lion  in  his  sea-girt  lair. 
France  was  again  tranquil ;  and  while  the  fields  be- 
gan to  yield  their  increase,  the  wine-dresser  to  prune 
his  vineyard,  and  the  hum  of  active  millions  went  up 
from  peaceful  cities,  Paris  was  the  vortex  of  dissipa- 
tion for  the  assembled  aristocracy,  representing  half  a 
continent  of  kingdoms.  Masked  balls,  private  parties, 
gaming  and  theatres,  formed  the  variety  in  this  dizzy 
whirl  of  exciting  pleasures.  The  popular  mind,  cured 
of  its  democratic  rtiadness,  was  delirious  with  charac- 
teristic frivolity,  which  wealthy  foreigners  caught  like 
a  congenial  epidemic,  and  cherished  with  a  more  law- 
less indulgence  than  example  offered.  The  gaming 
nouses  were  embellished  richly,  and  thronged  con- 
tinually. Fortunes  exchanged  hands  in  a  moment  of 
time;  the  millionaire  became  a  beggar,  and  the  penni- 
less won  his  pile  of  guineas  at  a  single  throw.  Beau- 
tiful women  leaned  over  the  tables  heaped  with  mon- 
ey, and  while  dark  eyes  flashed  with  unnatural  ex- 
citement, the  color  came  and  went  upon  those  fair 
faces,  where  love  alone  should  have  written  his  name 

"  Up«a  the  marble  brow, 
And  lingered  in  their  carls  of  jet," 

till  morning  threw  its  gray  light  upon  walls  beaded 
with  the  dew  of  the  languid  and  heated  air. 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE.  189 

The  Salon  des  Etrangers  was  a  favorite  resort  of 
these  prodigals  of  all  that  is  valuable  in  life,  or  peculiar 
to  man  as  an  heir  of  immortality.  Napoleon  seldom 
attended  any  of  these  convivial  scenes,  and  never  en- 
gaged in  play.  In  fact,  he  was  rather  a  model  of  tem- 
perance in  the  ordinary  gratification  of  appetite,  and 
his  habits  were  regular  and  correct.  Josephine  had  a 
relish  for  light  amusements  when  not  carried  to  excess, 
and  was  often  present  at  least  as  spectator,  in  the 
nightly  entertainments  of  the  shining  throng  whose 
resources  and  energies  seemed  inexhaustible.  Madam 
Tallien  likewise  , attended,  and  Josephine  embraced 
such  occasions  for  interviews  with  a  friend  she  could 
not  forget,  though  compelled  by  the  Consul  to  treat 
her  cavalierly  in  his  presence.  The  reasons  for  his 
cool  treatment  of  this  lady  are  not  fully  understood. 
The  ostensible  one,  was  her  doubtful  morality  in  her 
matrimonial  affairs ;  which  gains  force  from  his  ear- 
nest endeavor  to  rieform  the  licentious  manners  of  the 
fashionable  world,  even  in  regard  to  dress.  He  may 
have  felt  a  little  irritation  in  recollecting  her  influence 
upon  his  destiny,  while  he  would  arrogate  to  himself 
the  sole  honor  of  his  unrivalled  greatness ;  but  this 
could  have  been  only  slight  if  indulged  at  all,  so  long 
as  the  homage  of  mankind  was  the  grateful  incense  his 
majestic  mind  had  won.  It  is  related  by  Memes,  that 
Beaumarchais  overheard  the  following  conversati  on 
at  a  party,  between  Josephine  and  Madam  Tallien, 
which  throws  light  on  the  subject. 

" '  I  declare,  my  dear  Theresina,'  said  the  former, 


190  LIPB   OP  JOSEPniXE. 

'  that  I  have  done  all  friendship  could  dictate,  but  in 
vain.  No  later  than  this  morning,  I  made  a  new 
effort.  Bonaparte  would  hear  of  nothing.  I  cannot 
comprehend  what  can  have  prejudiced  him  so  strongly 
against  you.  You  are  the  only  woman  whose  name 
he  has  effaced  from  the  list  of  my  particular  friends  ; 
and  from  fear  he  should  manifest  his  displeasure  di- 
rectly against  us,  have  I  now  come  hither  alone  with 
my  son.  At  this  moment  they  believe  me  sound  asleep 
in  my  bed  in  the  chateau,  (Tuilleries,)  but  I  determined 
on  coming  to  see,  to  warn,  and  to  console  you ;  above 
all,  to  justify  myself.*  '  Josephine,'  .replied  the  other 
lady,  *  I  have  never  doubted  either  the  goodness  of 
your  heart  or  the  sincerity  of  your  affection.  Heaven 
is  my  witness,  that  the  loss  of  your  friendship  would 
be  to  me  much  more  painful  than  any  dread  of  Bona- 
parte. In  these  difficult  times  I  have  maintained  a 
conduct  that  might,  perhaps,  render  my  visits  an 
honor;  but  I  will  never  importune  you  without  his 
consent.  He  was  not  Consul  when  Tallien  followed 
him  into  Egypt — when  I  received  you  both  into  my 
house — when  I  shared  with  you' — here  a  burst  of  tears 
interrupted  the  speaker's  words.  *  Calm  yourself,'  re- 
plied Josephine  ;  '  be  calm,  my  dear  Theresina !  let 
the  storm  pass.  I  am  paving  the  way  for  a  reconcilia- 
tion ;  but  we  must  not  irritate  him  more.  You  know 
that  he  does  not  love  Ouvrard,  and  it  is  said  he  often 
sees  you.'  '  What,  then !  because  he  governs  France, 
does  he  hope  to  tyrannize  over  our  hearths  ?  must  we 
sacrifice  to  him  our  private  friendships  ?'     At  these 


LUTK  OF  JOSEPmira!.  191 

words  some  one  knocked  at  the  door  ;  it  was  Beau- 
harnais.  'Madam,'  said  lie,  'yon  have  been  now  more 
than  an  hour  absent ;  the  council  of  ministers  is  per- 
haps over ;  what  will  the  First  Consul  saj  should  he 
not  find  you  on  his  return  ? '  The  two  ladies  slowly 
descended  the  stairs,  still  conversing  in  earnest  whis- 
per, followed  by  Eugene." 

The  suffering  of  a  sensitive  spirit  is  seldom  disclosed 
to  the  multitude,  unless  its  magnitude  renders  conceal- 
ment impossible.  Josephine's  anguish  was  more  fre- 
quent and  intense  than  is  supposed  by  her  admirers 
While  the  outward  display  of  rank,  if  it  changed  its 
aspect,  but  assumed  like  the  chameleon,  a  gayer  color- 
inff  for  the  one  that  vanished,  the  interior  life  of  this 
faithful  wife  was  filled  with  the  darkest  shades  of  sad- 
ness,  and  her  heart  wrung  with  the  throes  of  agony. 
A  cloud  of  apprehension,  indeed,  hung  perpetually  upon 
the  horizon  of  her  brightest  prospects ;  it  was  like  a 
fragment  of  the  tempest's  ebon-folds  left  to  foreshadow 
another  desolating  storm,  sweeping  down  upon  the 
fabric  of  her  happiness. 

In  May,  1802,  Bonaparte  was  appointed  First  Con- 
sul for  life,  upon  which  the  purpose  of  forming  a  new 
dynasty  became  the  central  object  of  his  thoughts. 
This  was  fully  matured  in  August,  by  an  edict  authori- 
zing him  to  appoint  a  successor  by  testamentary  deed. 
The  last  vestige  of  republicanism  was  gone — and  it 
was  whispered  that  Josephine  would  be  banished  also 
from  the  palace  by  divorce,  to  prepare  the  way  for  an 
heir  to  the  consulate.     Lucien  almost  broke  her  heait 


102  LIFE   OP   JOSEPUIXE. 

by  suggesting  that  if  she  did  not  have  a  son,  the  Con- 
sul must  secure  by  another  this  first  link  in  the  chain 
of  hereditary  succession  from  the  Corsican  family. 
Bourrienne  relates  a  domestic  incident  which  occurred 
soon  afterward,  disclosing  her  intense  anxiety  on  this 
subject. 

"  I  remember  that,  one  day,  after  the  publication  of 
the  parallel  of  Caesar,  Cromwell,  and  Bonaparte,  Jose- 
phine having  entered  our  cabinet  without  being  an- 
nounced, which  she  sometimes  did,  when  from  the  good- 
humor  exhibited  at  breakfast,  she  reckoned  upon  its 
continuance,  approached  Bonaparte  softly,  seated  her- 
self on  his  knee,  passed  her  hand  gently  through  his 
hair,  and  over  his  face,  and,  thinking  the  moment  fa- 
vorable, said  to  him,  in  a  burst  of  tenderness,  '  I  en- 
treat of  you,  Bonaparte,  do  not  make  yourself  a  king  I 
It  is  that  Lucien  who  urges  you  to  it ;  do  not  listen  to 
him.'  Bonaparte  replied,  without  anger,  and  even 
smiling  as  he  pronounced  the  last  words,  *  You  are 
mad,  my  poor  Josephine.  It  is  your  old  dowagers  of 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  your  Rochefoucaulds,  who 
tell  you  all  these  fables !  *  *  *  Come  now,  you 
interrupt  me — leave  me  alone.'  What  Bonaparte  said 
that  day  good-naturedly  to  his  wife,  I  have  often  heard 
him  declare  seriously.  I  have  been  present  at  five  or 
six  altercations  on  the  subject.  That  there  existed, 
too,  an  enmity  connected  with  this  question  between 
the  family  of  Beauharnais  and  the  family  of  Bonaparte, 
cannot  be  denied." 

Josephine's  fears  w^ere  farther  excited  by  a  new  or- 


'IIFE   OF   JOSEPniNE.  IGS 

der  of  things  in  the  palace,  i^nnong  the  stately  for- 
malities introduced,  was  the  occupation  by  the  Consul 
of  a  separate  bed-chamber,  in  a  part  of  the  mansiou 
most  remote  from  the  apartments  of  his  wife.  Until 
this  arrangement  they  had  lived  together,  with  no 
other  withdrawal  from  each  other's  society  than  that 
incident  to  the  humblest  station.  Josephine  passed 
sleepless  nights,  and  bathed  her  pillow  with  tears.  She 
would  rather  die  than  be  thrust  from  the  arms  of  him, 
upon  whom  she  lavished  her  "  wealth  of  love" — her 
pride  of  character,  her  affections,  would  all  be  crushed 
by  the  blow.  To  a  few  intimate  friends  she  confided 
the  story  of  her  secret  forebodings  and  grief,  while  she 
assumed  in  Nj^poleon's  presence,  that  cheerfulness 
which  irradiated "^er  sweet  face  with  smiles,  and  made 
her  voice  musical  as  the  eeolian  harp. 

The  infant  son  of  Hortense  diverted  the  attention  of 
Bonaparte,  and  he  now  cherished  the  design  of  adopt- 

■  ing  him  as  the  heir-apparent  to  his  grandeur  and  glory. 
This  circumstance,  with  continued  evidences  of  affec- 
tion, revived  the  hopes  of  Josephine,  and  she  again 
dismissed  her  fears. 

A  few  months  of  tranquillity  were  passed  at  St. 
Cloud,  during  which  Josephine  was  active  inhereffbrts 
for  the  dethroned  Bourbons.  She  enlisted  the  sym- 
pathy of  others  whenever  available,  and  watched  the 

*  varying  moods  of  the  Consul  with  reference  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  her  cherished  design  of  their  re-invest- 
ment with  royalty.  Her  earliest  associations  were  in 
that  direction,  and  she  had  learned,  as  we  have  seen,  in 


294  LITK   OF   JOSEPlimK, 

adversity  no  less  than  in  prosperity,  to  feel  identified 
with  them,  and  to  desire  their  restoration.  Besides, 
she  contemplated  Napoleon's  elevation  to  a  throne  with 
a  shrinking  of  heart  both  natural  and  painful.  Though 
the  summit  was  dazzling  while  the  heavens  were  clear, 
she  had  been  taught  by  history,  and  read  in  the  events 
of  preceding  years  the  startling  truth,  that  the  blasts 
sweep  the  most  fearfully  there,  and  the  cloud  of  rebel- 
lion at  any  time  may  enfold  it,  sending  forth  the  light- 
ning to  rend  and  desolate  the  aerie  of  grandeur.  But 
negotiations,  carried  on  with  the  weight  of  her  influ- 
ence ailways  urging  every  plausible  reason  for  favor 
toward  the  fallen  family,  were  at  length  closed  amid 
the  rising  tumult  of  war.  The  English  had  shamefully 
violated  their  treaty  within  a  few  months  after  its  rati- 
fication at  Amiens,  and  in  the  spring  of  1803,  hostilities 
were  renewed.  Napoleon  evidently  did  not  wish  at 
this  juncture  to  enter  the  battle-field  of  nations — he  was 
unprepared  for  it,  in  addition  to  motives  drawn  from 
the  transition  state  of  France  in  her  internal  improve- 
ments, and  his  unsettled  policy  for  the  future.  His 
message  to  the  Senate  was  a  dignified  expression  of 
his  unwillingness  to  muster  his  legions  for  slaughter. 
But  with  the  necessity  came  the  wonder-working 
energy  of  his  genius.  Naked  soldiers  were  clothed — 
conscriptions  filled  ^the  ranks  with  men — horses  and 
money  were  suddenly  abundant,  as  if  created  by  the  *" 
touch  of  the  Arabian  magician,  or  the  volition  of  his 
own  will.  He  made  a  tour  through  the  departments, 
Josephine    accompanying  him    and    receiving  everv- 


LEE'S  OF  JOSEPHINB.  3M^ 

where,  with  the  Consul,  the  tumultuous  applause  of  the 
people.  Civic  display,  deafening  acclamations,  splendid 
presents,  and  wreaths  of  gorgeous  flowers,  made  theii 
progress  a  scene  of  joyful  homage  the  proudest  king 
might  vainly  desire.  At  Boulogne,  she  saw  the  gather- 
ed regiments  of  a  Kingdom,  still  styled  the  Republic. 
They  stretched  along  the  coast  in  four  distinct  camps 
presenting  from  the  heights  a  wall  of  threatening  bat- 
teries, beneath  whose  shadow  the  British  fleet  dotted 
the  ocean  and  haughtily  watched  the  foe. 

The  port  was  guarded  by  a  flotilla  stretching  across 
its  entrance,  numbering  two  hundred  gun-boats  which 
together  carried  fifteen  hundred  cannon  ;  and  added  to 
this  protection,  was  a  massive  iron  chain  running  from 
fort  to  fort  along  the  mouth  of  the  harbors,  upon  whose 
waters  besides  the  vessels  mentijoied,  floated  seventeen 
hundred  smaller  craft  for  landing  the  army.  Two  hun- 
dred thousand  soldiers  waited  for  the  command  to  put 
this  naval  force  in  motion,  and  hasten  to  open  its  more 
than  two  thousand  pieces  of  ordnance  upon  the  enemies 
of  France.  Never  before  had  Josephine  beheld  so 
much  of  the  terrible  might  wielded  by  Napoleon.  The 
salutes  which  greeted  him  and  were  answered  by  the 
hostile  thunder  of  English  guns,  she  felt  to  be  only  a 
faint  echo  of  what  that  vast  machinery  of  death  could 
do,  when  its  united  roar  following  the  iron  hail,  shook 
the  field  of  conflict,  or  went  booming  over  a  tide  red 
with  the  blood  of  falling  ranks  of  brave  men  as  ever 
trod  the  deck  in  battle. 

It  has  been  doubted  whether  after  all  Bonaparte  in- 
13  I 


196  UFB  OF  JOSKPUINH. 

tended  an  invasion  of  England — deemed  it  possible  to 
seek  and  subdue  the  enemy  upon  British  soil.  Bour- 
rienne,  to  prove  that  it  was  a  manoeuvre,  similar  to  the 
one  which  he  made  when  about  embarking  for  Egypt, 
narrates  the  following  interview  with  the  Consul : — 

"  Bonaparte  came  into  the  grand  saloon  where  I 
awaited  him,  and  addressing  me  in  the  most  good- 
humored  way,  inquired,  after  having  made  a  few  tri- 
fling observations,  '  What  do  they  say  of  my  prepara- 
tions for  the  descent  upon  England  ?'  '  General,'  I 
replied,  *  there  is  a  great  difference  of  opinion  on  the 
subject.  Every  one  speaks  as  he  would  wish  it.  Su- 
chet,  for  instance,  who  comes  to  see  me  very  often, 
does  not  doubt  but  that  it  will  take  place,  and  hopes 
to  give  you  on  that  occasion  a  fresh  proof  of  his  grat- 
itude and  fidelity.'  '  But  Suchet  tells  me  that  you  do 
not  believe  it.'  '  That  is  true,  I  certainly  do  not.' 
'  Why  ?'  '  Because  you  told  me  at  Antwerp,  five 
years  agOj  that  you  would  not  risk  France  on  the  cast 
of  a  die — that  it  was  too  hazardous — and  nothing  has 
changed  since  that  time  to  render  it  more  probable.' 
•  You  are  right ;  those  who  believe  in  a  descent  are 
blockheads.  They  do  not  see  the  affair  in  its  true 
light.  I  can  doubtless  land  with  one  hundred  thousand 
men.  A  great  battle  will  be  fought,  which  I  shall 
gain ;  but  I  must  calculate  upon  thirty  thousand  men 
killed,  wounded,  or  taken  prisoners.  If  I  march  on 
London,  a  second  battle  will  be  fought ;  I  shall  sup- 
pose myself  again  victorious ;  but  what  shall  I  do  in 
London  with  an  army  reduced  three  fourths,  and  with- 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIITB.  lift  * 

out  a  hope  of  reinforcements  ?  It  would  be  madness. 
Until  our  navy  acquires  superiority,  it  would  be  a  per- 
ilous project.  The  great  assemblage  of  troops  in  the 
north  has  another  object.  My  government  must  be 
the  first,  or  it  must  fall.'  Bonaparte  then  evidently 
wished  to  deceive  with  respect  to  his  intentions,  and 
he  did  so.  He  wished  it  to  be  believed  that  he  in- 
tended a  descent  upon  England,  merely  to  fix  the  at- 
tention of  Europe  in  that  direction.  It  was  at  Dunkirk 
that  he  caused  all  the  various  plans  for  improving  the 
ports  to  be  discussed,  and  on  this  occasion  he  spoke  a 
great  deal  on  his  ulterior  views  respecting  England, 
which  had  the  effect  of  deceiving  the  ablest  around 
him." 

But  it  is  clear  that  the  writer  himself  was  deceived 
— the  astonishing  scheme  was  laid,  and  had  not  its 
execution  been  defeated,  he  would  have  rocked  to  its 
base  the  throne  of  George,  or  left  the  flower  of  his 
kingdom  around  that  ancient  seat  of  power.  The 
nation  favored  enthusiastically  the  expedition,  and 
withheld  nothing  that  would  secure  it.  Josephine,  it 
is  said,  was  deeply  moved  by  a  little  incident  illustrat- 
ing this  popular  ardor,  which  took  place  in  a  small  vil- 
lage near  Boulogne.  A  deputation  waited  on  Napo- 
leon, and  one  of  the  number  thus  addressed  him  : — 

"  General,  we  are  here,  ^twenty  fathers  of  families, 
who  present  to  you  twenty  gallant  youths,  to  be  now 
and  always  under  your  orders.  Accept  of  them,  gen- 
eral ;  they  are  able  to  do  good  service  when  you  reach 
England.     As  for  ourselves,  we  have  another  duty  to 


198  LITE  OF  JOBEPHmE. 

discharge ;  our  hands  shall  labor  the  soil,  that  bfead 
may  not  be  wanting  to  the  brave  men  destined  to 
crush  England." 

The  encampments  of  Boulogne  were  the  scene  of 
varied  amusements,  and  many  rash  adventures.  Ga- 
ming, with  its  dissipation  and  quarrels,  was  indulged 
without  restraint — and  duels  were  fought.  It  was 
here  that  the  combat  between  two  hundred  soldiers  of 
the  infantry  and  line,  and  the  same  number  of  grena- 
diers of  the  guard,  occurred.  Bonaparte's  praise  of 
the  former,  repeated  by  the  people  in  snatches  of  inju- 
dicious rhyme  composed  by  those  he  flattered,  as  they 
loitered  at  evening  around  the  camp,  was  the  original 
cause  of  the  quarrel.  This  sword  fight  commenced 
just  after  day-dawn,  and  for  an  hour  the  slaughter 
went  on  like  a  gladiatorial  strife,  when  a  regiment  of 
cavalry  under  General  Hilaire,  reached  the  ground  and 
arrested  the  desperate  game.  Bonaparte  reproved  and 
humbled  the  offenders  by  a  brief  address,  and  by  pub- 
lication of  the  very  trifles  that  incensed  those  against 
whom  their  detraction  was  aimed.  Several  pleasant 
stories  are  told  respecting  the  gayeties  of  this  prelude 
to  warfare  which  wrote  on  the  "  dead  list"  the  names 
of  many  gallant  forms  that  danced  in  the  mirth  of 
"  wine  and  wassail,"  till  the  "  noon  of  night."  The 
First  Consul  himself  contributed  to  the  merriment  by 
sometimes  attending  the  soirees  in  disguise — and  after 
enjoying  the  familiarities  of  the  pastime,  would  retire 
and  surprise  the  fair  entertainer  with  a  note  of  thanks 
over  the  signature,  Bonaparte. 


UFK   OF   JOSEPHINE.  199 

The  return  of  Napoleon  and  Josephine  to  the  capi- 
tal, was  distinguished  by  the  same  extravagant  exhibi- 
tions of  affection  that  marked  his  route  before.  All 
that  the  inhabitants  could  do  to  make  it  a  brilliant 
pageant — the  triumphal  march  of  a  mysterious  being, 
at  the  same  time,  hero,  monarch,  and  citizen,  was  lav- 
ished freely  upon  him.  Escaping  threatened  assassi- 
nation by  the  way,  he  soon  reposed  again  in  the  palace 
of  St.  Cloud. 

One  day  he  rode  with  Josephine  and  Cambaceres 
in  the  park  after  three  span  of  noble  bays,  presented 
10  him  at  Antwerp.  The  notion  seized  him  of  driving 
them  himself  for  experiment ;  and  taking  the  reins,  he 
mounted  the  coachman's  seat.  The  horses  were  in- 
stantly aware  that  a  hand  unused  to  their  government, 
guided  the  bit,  and  lifting  their  heads,  they  snuffed  the 
air  of  freedom,  and  dashed  away  at  their  own  lightning 
speed.  In  spite  of  Cambaceres'  cry  of  "  Stop !  Stop !" 
and  Caesar's  shout  as  the  carriage  approached  the  gate- 
way of  the  avenue,  "  To  the  left !  to  the  left !"  the 
coach  struck  the  heavy  pillars  like  a  ship  the  rock, 
overturning  it  and  bringing  the  bays  to  a  sudden  halt. 
Josephine  and  the  Second  Consul  escaped  from  the 
wreck  but  slightly  injured,  and  Bonaparte,  thrown  sev- 
eral rods,  was  taken  to  his  apartment  insensible.  After 
recovery  and  mutual  repartee,  he  alluded  with  a  seri- 
ous air  to  the  nearness  of  death  in  this  accident ;  then 
folding  his  arms  in  thoughtful  mood,  said  to  Josephine, 
with  a  hurried  tone,  "  But  what  is  death  ?  It  is  merely 
a  sleep  without  dreams  1"     And  yet  he  was  sad  ia  the 


200  LIFB   OF  JOSEPUUfK,    ' 

momentary  contemplation  of  a  slumber  that  would  dis- 
pel forever,  a  dream  more  splendid  than  any  mortal 
beside  had  ever  known — a  spell  that  made  the  wide 
earth  his  theatre  of  glory,  and  poured  down  the  long 
future  the  music  of  his  name.  He  evidently  attached 
no  value  to  life  as  probation  for  an  endless  state — nor 
did  he  think  deeply  upon  a  destiny  beyond  that  hori- 
zon whose  circle  touched  the  cradle  and  the  grave. 
The  want  of  early  religious  culture,  and  consequently 
the  dullness  or.  perversion  of  his  moral  sensibilities, 
together  with  a  quenchless  thirst  for  distinction,  ren- 
dered him  wholly  forgetful  that  it  requires  two  worlds 
to  complete  the  career  of  man,  and  make  out  his  title 
to  immortality  I 


CHAPTER  VII. 

JD9KPHINK     AND     THE     BOURBON     CONSPIRATORS. DCKE     d'eNGHIKN. HIS 

DEATH. — Josephine's  grie?  and  her  sympathy  for  the  conspira- 
tors.— Bonaparte's  movements. — his  ambition. — views  of  the  sen- 
ate.  BONAPARTE   BECOMES   EMPEROR  OF  FRANCE. OATH  ADMINISTERE» 

to  the  legion  of  honor. emotions  of  josephine. royal   court. 

—excursion  to  boulogne. — the  princess  of   baden. incidents.— 

Josephine's  forebodings. — reuqious  marriage  of  josefhine. — thk 
coronation. 

We  have  seen  Josephine  emerge  from  comparative 
obscurity,  and  rise  step  by  step  twoard  the  summit  of 
earthly  grandeur;  each  successive  stage  of  advance- 
ment seeming  designed  as  well  as  fitted  to  develop  and 
display  those  exquisitely  feminine  charms,  which  nature 
had  so  prodigally  lavished  upon  her.  Placed  by  the 
astonishing  fortunes  of  her  husband  in  ever-shifting 
and  untried  social  positions,  where  the  utmost  purity 
and  refinement  of  nature,  with  the  most  delicate  tact 
and  grace  of  manner,  were  necessary  to  give  to  her 
station,  and  that  of  her  husband,  dignity  and  respecta- 
bility, and  even  to  secure  the  continued  possession  of 
acquired  advantages,  her  intuitive  sense  of  propriety 
seems  never  to  have  been  at  fault ;  while  her  sunny 
good  nature  and  the  tenderness  of  her  sympathies, 
gained  the  hearts  of  all  about  her.  These  tender 
sympathies  were  now  to  be  called  into  exercise  toward 


202  LIFB  OF  JOSEPHnrX. 

an  unfortunate  class  hitherto  unknown :  namely,  the 
victims  of  her  husband's  tyranny.  Bonaparte,  the 
soldier  of  fortune,  by  his  genius  and  energy  restoring 
something  like  order  to  the  distracted  councils  of  his 
adopted  country,  rising  by  the  superiority  of  his  talent 
and  character,  from  height  to  height  of  power,  until  the 
name  only  of  sovereignty  was  wanting  to  his  ambi- 
tion— has  commanded  our  admiration ;  for  hitherto  he 
had  in  form  at  least  respected  the  rights  and  liberties 
of  the  people,  and  was  yet  unstained  with  crime.  But 
now  that  success  had  left  him  little  to  aspire  to,  he 
began,  like  common  and  vulgar  tyrants,  to  seek  to 
secure  his  dominion  by  sweeping  from  his  path  what- 
ever might  endanger  it,  even  should  it  cost  the  sacrifice 
of  innocent  blood. 

Several  friends  of  the  Bourbon  family,  among  whom 
were  Georges,  the  Polignacs,  Pichegru,  Moreau,  and 
others  of  less  celebrity,  were  about  this  time  suspected 
of  a  conspiracy  to  restore  that  dynasty,  and  place  a 
Bourbon  on  the  throne. 

They  held  frequent  meetings  in  Paris,  to  consult  as 
to  the  bias  of  public  sentiment,  the  expediency  of 
revolution,  &c.,  and  at  length  seem  to  have  been  con- 
vinced of  the  impracticableness  of  their  schemes,  and 
to  have  been  about  quietly  to  depart  from  Paris,  when 
they  were  suddenly  arrested  by  the  police,  (who  up  to 
this  time  seem  to  have  watched  and  connived  at  their 
proceedings,)  and  were  thrown  into  prison  to  await 
their  trial.  In  the  mean  time  there  resided  in  the 
Duchy  of  Baden,  on  the  frontier  of  France,  a  young 


LIFE  OF  josbphhtb.  20S 

prince  of  the  Bourbon  family,  the  Duke  d'Enghien, 
a  grandson  of  the  Prince  De  Conde,  a  soldier,  who, 
after  fighting  many  years  in  the  continental  wars,  was 
living  on  a  pension  allowed  him  by  the  British  govern- 
ment. On  pretence  that  he  was  privy  to  the  designs 
of  the  conspirators  in  Paris,  and  intended  to  profit  by 
them  when  matured,  he  was  seized  by  night  and 
hurried  to  the  citadel  of  Strasburg,  where  he  remained 
until  orders  could  be  received  from  Paris,  then  carried 
to  Vincennes,  and  after  the  mockery  of  trial,  was  shot 
by  a  file  of  soldiers,  and  buried  in  the  ditch  surround- 
ing the  fortress.  The  whole  procedure  was  so  illegal, 
so  sanguinary,  so  uncalled  for,  that  it  astonished 
Europe ;  and  as  it  is  an  instructive  lesson,  as  to  the 
efliects  of  a  lawless  ambition,  we  quote  a  passage. 

"  This  sanguinary  scene  took  place  at  the  Castle  of 
Vincennes.  It  was  General  Ordener,  commandant  of 
the  horse  grenadiers  of  the  guard,  who  received  orders 
from  the  minister  at  war  to  proceed  to  the  Rhine,  to 
give  instructions  to  the  chiefs  of  the  gendarmerie  of 
New  Brissac,  which  was  placed  at  his  disposal.  This 
general  sent  a  detachment  of  gendarmerie  to  Etten- 
hiem,  where  the  Duke  d'Enghien  was  arrested  on  tlie  ' 
15th  of  March,  1804.  He  was  immediately  conducted 
to  the  citadel  of  Strasburg,  where  he  remained  until 
the  18th,  to  give  time  for  orders  being  received  from 
Paris.  These  orders  were  given  rapidly,  and  promptly 
executed,  for  the  carriage  which  conveyed  the  unfor- 
tunate prince  arrived  at  the  barrier  at  eleven  o'clock 
on  the  morning  of  the  20th.     It  remained  there  for  five 


2f04  ISEK  OF  JOSEPHINB. 

hours,  and  then  departed  by  the  exterior  boulevarde  on 
the  road  to  Vincennes,  where  it  arrived  at  night. 
Every  scene  of  this  horrible  alfair  took  place  during 
the  night — the  sun  did  not  even  shine  upon  its  tragic 
close.  The  soldiers  had  orders  to  proceed  to  Vincennes 
during  the  night ;  it  vi^as  at  night  that  the  fatal  gates 
were  closed  upon  the  prince — at  night  the  council 
assembled  to  try  him,  or  rather  to  condemn  him  with- 
out trial.  When  the  clock  struck  six  on  the  morning 
of  the  21st  of  March,  the  order  was  given  to  fire,  and 
the  prince  ceased  to  live.  Here  let  me  be  permitted 
to  make  a  reflection.  When  the  dreadful  intelligence 
of  the  death  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  reached  Paris,  it 
excited  a  feeling  of  consternation  which  recalled  the 
recollection  of  the  days  of  terror.  Ah !  if  Bonaparte 
could  have  seen  the  gloom  which  pervaded  the  capital, 
and  compared  it  with  the  joy  which  was  exhibited  on 
the  day  when  he  returned  victorious  from  the  field  of 
Marengo,  he  would  have  considered  that  he  had  tar- 
nished his  glory  with  a  stain  which  nothing  could  ever 
efface." 

In  the  examination  in  the  council  chamber,  many 
interrogatories  were  put  to  him  respecting  his  family, 
his  employments,  his  acquaintance  with  Pichegru  and 
others  of  the  conspirators,  and  nothing  in  his  answers 
tended  in  the  least  to  implicate  him  in  any  plan  of 
ambition  or  scheme  o*'  treachery.  On  the  contrary 
everything  showed  him  to  be  ingenuous,  noble,  and 
unsuspecting.  He  earnestly  entreated  an  interview 
with  the  First  Consul,  and  much  blame  has  attached  to 


MFB  OB"  JOSEPHINE.  205 

Savary,  the  commander  of  the  fortress,  for  not  delay- 
ing his  execution.  This  event  filled  all  minds  with 
horror. 

Chateaubriand,  who  was  then  high  in  favor  with 
Napoleon,  and  had  just  been  appointed  minister  pleni- 
potentiary to  theVallais,  instantly  resigned  his  appoint- 
ment on  hearing  of  the  Duke's  death.  This  was  a 
strong  rebuke  to  Bonaparte,  for  as  Bourrienne  re- 
marks, "  it  said  plainly,  '  You  have  committed  a  crime, 
and  I  vvill  not  serve  a  government  which  is  stained 
with  the  blood  of  a  Bourbon !' "  In  England,  Bona- 
parte was  constantly  styled  in  some  of  the  leading 
journals,  "  the  assassin  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien."  But 
no  heart  felt  the  blow  more  acutely  than  that  of  Jose- 
phine. She  had  from  some  cause  feared  this  step  on 
the  part  of  her  husband,  and  had  earnestly  endeavored 
to  dissuade  him  from  his  purpose.  On  the  fatal  morn- 
ing of  the  21st  of  March,  when  Napoleon's  favorite 
attendant  came  into  his  room,  he  found  him  alone,  pale 
and  haggard,  and  complaining  of  having  passed  a 
dreadful  night.  He  rose,  but  before  he  had  finished  his 
toilet,  Josephine  rushed  into  the  room  from  her  own 
distant  apartments,  with  her  countenance  bathed  in 
tears,  and  every  personal  care  neglected,  crying,  "  The 
Duke  d'Enghien  is  dead !  oh  my  friend,  what  hast  thou 
done  ?"  and  threw  herself  on  his  bosom.  Napoleon  Ls 
said  to  have  shown  extraordinary  emotion,  and  to  have 
exclaimed,  "  The  wretches !  they  have  been  too  hasty  !'* 
He  then  supported  Josephine  along  the  corridor  to  her 
own  chamber,  seeking  to  impart  to  her  that  consolation 


206  UI<I!  OF  JOSEPHDO:. 

which  he  vainly  sought  for  himself.  Her  grief  was  at 
least  unattended  by  remorse.  We  will  add  a  narrative 
related  by  Madam  Decrest,  of  Josephine's  own  account 
of  her  inability  to  prevent  the  sad  catastrophe. 

"  The  Emperor  was  cruelly  counselled.  Of  himself 
he  never  would  have  conceived  the  idea  of  such  a  de- 
sign. Once  resolved,  no  power  on  earth  could  prevent 
its  execution,  so  firm  was  his  determination  in  all 
things,  and  so  great  the  dread  he  entertained  of  being 
taxed  with  irresolution.  But  I  am  persuaded  that 
often  has  he  lamented  over  a  too  prompt  obedience  on 
the  part  of  others.  There  are  facts  which  I  dare  not 
disclose,  lest  I  should  give  up  to  infamy  the  real  authors 
of  the  death  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien.  History  will 
speak  and  the  truth  be  known.  Finally,  General 
Moreau  proved  the  innocent  cause  of  that  fatal  resolu- 
tion. Napoleon  and  he  were  conversing  about  the 
Bourbons,  when  the  former  asked  if  there  was  a  soldier 
in  the  family  ?  '  Yes,'  replied  the  general,  '  they  are 
all  brave !  The  duke  d'Enghien  is  besides  an  excel- 
lent officer,  and  much  loved  by  the  soldiery.  He  is  a 
worthy  scion  of  the  house  of  Conde.'  *I8  he  am- 
bitious?' 'As  to  that  I  cannot  answer;  but  from  his 
manner  of  fighting  he  appears  to  aspire  to  a  glory 
which  cannot  long  be  satisfied  with  foreign  service.' 
'  This  eulogium,'  added  the  empress,  '  disquieted  Na- 
poleon, and  several  times  he  reverted  to  the  subject. 
In  order  to  calm  these  apprehensions,  a  crime  was  pro- 
posed to  him.    Never  can  I  cease  to  think  with  abhor- 


LTPE  OP  JOSEPHIXE.  207 

rence  of  those  who  urged  him  to  it.     They  J^ave  proved 
his  worst  enemies.' " 

One  affecting  incident  in  this  bloody  tragedy,  proves 
the  appreciation  by  all  who  knew  her,  of  the  tender- 
ness and  sympathy  of  Josephine's  nature.  The  young 
Duke  at  the  time  of  his  arrest,  was  tenderly  and  affec- 
tionately attached  to  a  young  lady,  to  enjoy  whose  so- 
ciety he  had  taken  up  his  residence  in  the  town  where 
she  lived.  When  he  found  that  he  had  but  a  few  mo- 
ments to  live,  he  placed  his  picture  and  a  lock  of  his 
hair  in  the  hands  of  a  messenger  to  be  conveyed  to 
Josephine  ;  that  through  her  it  might  reach  the  object 
of  his  affections. 

The  conspirators,  as  they  were  termed,  had  their 
trial  during  the  May  and  June  following  the  Duke 
d'Enghien's  death,  with  the  exception  of  Pichegru, 
who  was  found  dead  in  his  prison.  The  trial  seems  to 
have  proved  that  assassination  had  never  been  con- 
templated; and  that  the  design  was  mainly  to  ascer- 
tain the  true  state  of  public  feeling,  which  had  been 
represented  by  some  factious  intriguers  as  favorable  to 
the  Bourbons.  The  prisoners  were  all  young,  and  their 
situation  created  universal  sympathy.  Still,  Bona- 
parte, as  if  having  like  Macbeth,  resolved  on  the  death 
of  all  whose  lives  might  be  dangerous  to  his  future 
throne,  sanctioned  the  decree  of  the  special  tribunal 
which  condemned  to  death  twenty  of  these  unfortunate 
men;  a  decree  which  filled  Paris,  and  indeed  all 
France,  with  mourning.  Much  effort  was  made  by  the 
prisoners  and  their  friends  to  obtain  from  Bonaparte  a 


i 


I 


208  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHLNB. 

repeal  of  the  sentence,  which  was  successful  in  respect 
to  six  of  them.  The  others  were  executed  As  will 
readily  be  supposed,  no  one  was  more  zealoas  and  ar- 
dent in  endeavors  to  procure  their  pardon  than  Jose- 
phine. She  had  protested  to  a  friend  that  the  death  of 
the  Duke  d'Enghien  "  embittered  every  moment  of  her 
life ;"  and  now  she  was  to  have  the  anguish  of  seeing 
twenty  families,  many  of  them  among  the  noblest  in 
the  land,  thrown  into  the  deepest  affliction  by  the  exe- 
cution of  this  barbarous  sentence.  It  was  to  her,  too, 
that  all  appeals  were  made  by  the  heart-broken  peti- 
tioners ;  and  in  the  presence  of  friends,  she  touchingly 
lamented  her  inability  to  answer  all  of  them. 

While  Napoleon  was  thus  awing  the  disaffected  by 
his  summary  proceedings  against  suspected  traitors,  he 
was  not  neglecting  a  more  effectual  means  of  strength- 
ening his  government,  in  making  it  popular  with  the 
people.  France,  at  his  accession  to  power,  was  almost 
in  the  condition  of  a  country  that  has  been  overrun 
and  pillaged  by  a  foreign  army :  Bonaparte  bent  all  the 
energies  of  his  wonderful  intellect  to  her  restoration 
to  prosperity.  Public  improvements,  from  the  most 
minute  to  the  most  gigantic,  were  projected  and  exe- 
cuted under  his  own  supervision  in  every  part  of  his 
kingdom ;  while  the  celerity  of  his  own  movements, 
and  the  system  of  espionage  by  which  he  watched  the 
movements  of  those  who  were  employed  in  his  service, 
seemed  to  give  him  something  like  omnipresence. 
Conscious  of,  and  perhaps  even  over-estimating  his  ex- 
traordinary powers,  flushed  with  the  success  that  had 


LIFB  OF  JOeEPHIKB.  209 

hitherto  attended  him  in  every  enterprise  he  had  urt 
dertaken,  he  already  began  to  conceive  himself  "  the 
Man  of  Destiny,"  whose  office  on  earth  was  to  over- 
throw the  existing  governments  of  Europe,  perhaps  of 
the  world,  and  to  form  on  their  ruins  one  mighty  em- 
pire of  which  himself  should  be  the  centre  and  the 
ruler.  As  he  could  not  but  admit,  however,  that 
though  he  might  seem  to  be  a  "god,"  "yet  he  must  die 
like  men,  and  fall  like  one  of  the  princes,"  it  was  with 
him  also  a  most  important  object  to  secure  a  successor 
to  whom  he  might  bequeath  this  vast  inheritance  of 
power  and  responsibility.  To  pave  the  way  for  the 
accomplishment  of  these  designs,  he  had  long  aspired 
to  make  himself  Emperor  of  France,  with  the  right  of 
the  hereditary  succession  in  his  own  family.  Yet  with 
consummate  tact  that  distinguished  him,  he  chose  to 
keep  himself  in  the  background,  and  not  to  receive  this 
new  dignity,  till  it  should  seem  to  be  forced  upon  him 
by  the  urgent  entreaties  of  the  senate  and  the  people. 
Constantly  influencing  the  opinions  of  the  senate  by 
secret  agencies,  he  found  in  that  body  the  most  com- 
plete subserviency  to  his  wishes,  while  in  the  name 
of  Liberty,  Equality,  and  the  Republic,  he  was  about 
to  assume  a  power  more  absolute  than  had  been  enjoy- 
ed by  any  sovereign  since  Charlemagne.  The  senate, 
while  fervent  in  their  congratulations  to  Bonaparte  on 
his  escape  from  conspiracy,  or  as  they  termed  it,  from 
the  daggers  of  England,  entreated  him  to  "consolidate 
his  work,"  meaning  that  he  should  make  himself  Em 
peror,  and  establish  hereditary  succession.    The  agents 


210  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINB. 

of  government  throughout  France,  had  long  been  so- 
liciting the  First  Consul  to  grant  for  the  people  what  the 
people  did  not  want ;  in  short,  everything  was  ripe  for 
the  change  of  the  republic  into  an  empire.  On  the 
18th  of  May  therefore,  Napoleon  was  named  Emperor, 
and  the  Bonapartean  dynasty  established.  At  the 
same  time,  suddenly,  as  if  by  the  aid  of  magic,  the 
ancient  order  of  things,  the  distinctions  of  rank,  titles, 
decorations,  &:c.,  were  restored. 

On  Sunday,  the  ISth  of  July,  the  Emperor  appeared 
for  the  first  time  before  the  Parisians  surrounded  by 
all  the  pomp  of  royalty.  On  that  day  the  Emperor 
and  Empress,  attended  by  a  magnificent  cavalcade, 
repaired  to  the  church  of  the  "  Invalides,"  where  they 
were  received  by  the  clergy,  who  went  through  certain 
religious  ceremonies,  when,  after  some  flattering  ad- 
dresses, Bonaparte  rose,  and  said  in  a  firm  voice, 
"  Commanders,  officers,  legionaries,  citizens,  soldiers  ! 
swear  upon  your  honor  to  devote  yourselves  to  the 
service  of  the  empire,  to  the  preservation  of  Ihe  integ- 
rity of  the  French  territory,  to  the  defence  of  the  Em- 
peror, of  the  laws  of  the  republic,  and  of  the  property 
which  they  have  made  sacred — in  short,  swear  to 
concur  with  all  your  might  in  maintaining  liberty  and 
equality,  which  are  the  bases  of  all  our  institutions. 
Do  you  swear  ?" 

"  Each  member  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  exclaimed 
'  I  swear ;'  adding,  '  Vive  I'empereur  !'  with  an  en- 
thusiasm it  is  impossible  to  describe,  and  in  which  all 
present  joined." 


LIFE   OP  JOSEPHINE.  211 

Josephine  had  now  verified  in  her'  experience  the 
prediction  of  the  sibyl  in  her  native  island ;  she  was 
Queen,  nay,  Empress  of  France !  But  was  she  happy  ? 
Read  an  interesting  letter  addressed  by  her  to  her 
husband  during  his  temporary  absence  from  home,  and 
see  with  what  mournful  foreboding  she  contemplated 
an  event  which  had  raised  her  to  the  summit  of  earthly 
glory : 

"My  Friend, — For  the  tenth  time,  perhaps,  have 
I  perused  your  letter,  and  must  confess  that  the 
amazement  into  which  i^  threw  me  subsides  only  to 
give  place  to  sorrow  and  apprehension.  You  persist, 
then,  in  the  resolution  to  re-establish  the  throne  of 
France,  and  yet  not  to  restore  those  who  were  deposed 
by  the  Revolution,  but  to  seat  yourself  thereon  ?  What 
power,  you  ask — what  grandeur — and  above  all  what 
advantage  in  this  design  !  And  for  my  part,  I  venture 
to  reply.  What  obstacles  present  themselves  to  its 
success  I  how  great  the  sacrifices  which  must  be  made 
before  its  accomplishment  can  be  secured!  how  far 
beyond  calculation  the  consequences  should  it  be  rea- 
lized !  But  let  us  admit  that  your  purpose  does  succeed, 
will  your  views  terminate  with  the  founding  of  a  new 
empire  ?  Will  not  your  power,  opposed,  as  to  a  cer- 
tainty it  must  be,  by  the  neighboring  states,  draw  you 
into  a  war  with  them?  This  will  probably  end  in 
their  ruin  Will  not  their  neighbors,  beholding  these 
effects,  combine  in  turn  for  your  destruction  ?  While 
abroad  such  is  the  state  of  things,  at  home  how  numer- 
ous the  envious  and  discontented! — how  many  plots  to 

14 


212  LIFB  OP  JOSEPHIlfB. 

disconcert,  ancf  conspiracies  to  punish !  Kings  will 
despise  you  as  an  upstart,  the  people  will  hate  you  as  a 
usurper,  your  equals  as  a  tyrant ;  none  will  compre- 
hend the  utility  of  your  elevation ;  all  will  assign  it  to 
ambition  or  to  pride.  Doubtless,  there  will  not  be 
wanting  slaves  who  will  cringe  to  your  power,  until, 
backed  by  another  which  they  esteem  a  more  formida- 
ble influence,  they  will  seek  to  elevate  themselves  on 
youi  ruin.  Fortunate,  also,  beyond  hope,  if  steel — if 
poison ! — a  wife,  a  friend,  dare  not  give  pause  to  alarmed 
imagination  on  images  so  dreadful.  This  brings  me  to 
myself,  a  subject  about  which  my  concern  would  be 
small  indeed  if  I  only  were  interested.  But,  with  the 
throne,  will  there  not  likewise  arise  the  desire  of  new 
alliances  ?  Will  you  not  consider  it  necessary,  by 
new  family  ties,  to  provide  for  the  more  effectual 
security  of  that  throne  ?  Oh !  whatever  such  connec- 
tions might  be,  could  they  prove  like  those  formed  at 
first  in  propriety,  and  which  affections  the  most  tender 
have  since  consecrated !  I  stop  at  '  this  perspective, 
which  fear^ — must  I  say  love  ? — traces  in  an  appalling 
futurity.  Yoii  have  alarmed  me  by  your  ambitious 
flight ;  restore  my  confidence  by  your  return  to  modera- 
tion." 

A  friend  calling  upon  her  about  this  time,  and  find- 
ing her  in  a  garden,  saluted  her  by  the  title  of  "  Your 
majesty."  "  Ah !"  she  replied,  with  a  tone  and  manner 
that  went  to  his  heart,  "  I  entreat  that  you  will  suffer 
me,  at  least  here,  to  forget  that  I  am  an  Empress." 
All  chroniclers  agree,  that  while  in  public  she  was 


LIFE   OF  ,  JOSEPHIKB.  218 

receiving  congratulations  and  adulation  from  all  classes 
with  a  grace  and  benignity  that  charmed  all  around 
her,  her  heart  was  ill  at  ease ;  constantly  fearing  that 
Napoleon  would  sacrifice  to  ambition  and  selfish  policy 
her  whole  domestic  peace  and  happiness.  Besides,  the 
etiquette  of  a  court  which  was  attempted  to  be  rigidly 
maintained  around  her,  was  irksome  in  the  extreme  to 
one  whose  natural  ease  and  grace  never  needed  the 
curb  of  formal  rules.  She  is  said  to  have  written  : 
"  The  nearer  my  husband  approached  the  highest  step 
to  which  fo'rtune  sometimes  elevates  men,  the  dimmer 
became  my  last  gleam  of  happiness.  'Tis  true  I 
enjoyed  a  magnificent  existence.  My  court  was  com- 
posed of  persons  of  great  name,  of  ladies  of  the  first 
rank,  who  all  solicited  the  honor  of  being  presented  to 
me.  But  I  could  no  longer  dispose  of  my  time.  I  was 
constrained  to  submit  at  all  times  to  the  rigorous 
usages  of  etiquette,  and  the  Emperor  directed  that  it 
should  be  as  severe  as  it  anciently  had  been  at  the 
chateau  of  Versailles.  He  was  receiving  from  every 
part  of  France  congratulations  upon  his  advent  to  the 
throne ;  while  I  niyself  sighed  in  contemplating  the 
immense  power  he  had  acquired.  The  more  I  saw 
him  loaded  with  the  gifts  of  fortune,  the  more  I  feared 
his  fall." 

The  determination  of  Bonaparte  to  form  a  court 
unlike  that  of  his  predecessors  in  the  outward  morality 
at  least  of  its  members,  was  honorable  to  him,  and 
approved  by  Josephine,  excepting  his  extreme  views 
on  the  subject.     He  beheld  in  the  dissoluteness  of  the 


214  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE. 

nobility  and  courtiers  of  former  reigns  the  slow  progress 
of  a  social  disease,  which  more  than  any  other  cause 
brought  on  the  convulsions  in  state,  that  shook  down 
the  political  edifice,  amid  the  groans  and  slaughter  of 
millions.  But  his  impetuous  spirit  erred  in  excessive 
caution  which  excluded  those  the  Empress  and  even 
himself  in  better  moods,  would  have  favored  with 
appointments  among  the  royal  retinue.  This  will  be 
seen  in  Josephine's  letter  to  Madam  Girardine,  formerly 
Duchess  d'Aiguillen,  who  was  a  fellow  captive  with 
her,  and  it  will  be  recollected  aided  kindly  Madam 
Beauharnais. 

"  My  dear  Friend, — I  am  most  afflicted — and  far 
indeed  from  beholding  nriy  wishes  fulfilled,  as  ancient 
friends  may  suppose,  who  will  doubtless  believe,  that 
if  I  do  not  see  them  it  is  because  I  have  forgotten  the 
past.  Alas !  no ;  on  the  contrary,  I  remember  it  but 
too  well,  and  my  thoughts  dwell  upon  it  more  than  I 
would  ;  for  the  more  I  think  upon  what  they  did  for  me, 
the  greater  is  my  sorrow  at  being  unable  to  do  now 
what  my  heart  dictates.  The  Empress  of  France  is 
but  the  first  slave  in  the  empire,  and  cannot  acquit  the 
debts  of  Madam  de  Beauharnais  !  This  constitutes  the 
torture  of  my  life  and  will  explain  why  you  do  not  oc- 
cupy a  place  near  me ;  why  I  do  not  see  Madam  Tal- 
lien ;  in  fine,  why  several  ladies,  formerly  our  confi- 
dential friends,  would  be  strangers  to  me  were  not  my 
memory  faithful.  The  emperor,  indignant  at  the  total 
disregard  of  morality,  and  alarmed  at  the  progress  it 
might  still  make,  is  resolved  that  the  example  of  a  life 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHIWE.  215 

of  regularity  and  of  religion  shall  be  given  In  the  palace 
where  he  commands.  Desirous  of  strengthening  more 
'^-  and  more  the  church  re-established  by  himself,  and  un- 
able to  change  the  laws  appointed  by  her  obsei-vances, 
his  intention  is  at  least  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  his 
court  all  those  who  may  have  profited  by  the  possibili- 
ty of  divorce.  This  he  has  promised  to  the  pope  ;  and 
hitherto  has  kept  his  word.  Hence  the  cause  of  his  re- 
fusing the  favor  I  asked  of  having  you  with  me.  The 
refusal  has  occasioned  me  unspeakable  regret ;  but  he 
is  too  absolute  to  leave  even  the  hope  of  seeing  him  re- 
tract. I  am  thus  constrained  to  renounce  the  pleasure 
which  I  had  promised  myself  of  being  constantly  with 
you,  studying  to  make  you  forgeVthe  sovereign  in  the 
friend.  Pity  my  lot  in  being  too  public  a  personage  to 
follow  my  own  itvjlination,  and  cherish  for  me  a  friend- 
ship, the  remembrance  of  which  gives  me  now  as  much 
•pleasure  as  its  reality  afforded  consolation  in  prison. 
Often  do  I  regret  that  small,  dark,  and  dismal  chamber 
which  we  shared  together,  for  there  at  least  I  could 
pour  out  my  whole  heart — and  was  sincerely  beloved 
in  return." 

In  speaking  of  the  etiquette  of  the  court  of  Napoleon, 
it  is  proper  to  say,  that  if  the  Emperor  and  Empress 
conformed  to  it  with  a  grace  which  gave  it  dignity,  this 
was  by  no  means  the  case  with  the  "  new"  men  and 
women  on  whom  had  been  conferred  posts  of  honor  in 
the  establishment.  Much  awkwardness  was  doubtless 
displayed,  and  many  blunders  committed  by  these 
^^ parvenus,"  as  they  were  termed  by  those  aristocrats 


^m 


216  LITB   OF  JOSEPHrHTK. 

and  other  members  of  the  ancient  regime,  to  whom  tho 
manners  of  a  court  were  familiar.  Napoleon,  who  if 
he  might  be  said  to /ear  anything,  feared  ridicule  ;  and 
who  seemed  to  regard  it  as  essential  to  his  prosperity 
to  conciliate  the  favor  of  the  ancient  noblesse,  called  as 
many  of  that  class  as  possible  around  him ;  and  insisted 
on  their  punctilious  observance  of  all  the  rules  which 
had  guided  the  conduct  of  the  nobility  of  "the  old 
school."  An  instance  is  related,  probably  with  some 
exaggeration,  when  in  the  first  progress  made  by  their 
imperial  majesties,  a  drawing-room  was  to  be  held  in 
one  of  the  cities  on  the  Rhenish  frontier : — 

"  The  important  affair  of  presentation  occupied  of 
course  the  thoughts  of  every  one  who  had  any  claim 
to  that  honor.  One  of  the  ladies  aspirants  to  this  dis- 
tinction, knowing  a  friend  who  had  been  presented, 
wrote  for  instructions,  and  received  the  following : 
'  You  make  three  courtesies  ;  one  on  entering  the  sa*^ 
loon,  one  in  the  middle,  and  a  third  a  few  paces  farther 
on,  671  pirouette.'*  This  last  proved  a  complete  mys- 
tery, and  had  nearly  turned 2X\  the  respectable  heads  in 
Cologne,  the  scene  of  expected  operations.  A  con- 
sultation was  called,  the  letter  communicated,  and 
deep  deliberation  ensued.  Many  of  the  ladies  were 
old — en  pirouette  ! — werj  difficult ;  some  of  German 
blood,  were  tall — en  pirouette  ! — very  awkward ;  some 
were  young — en  pirouette  ! — might  tumble — very  bad 
that ;  some  were  short — en  pirouette  ! — looked  squat, 
and  they  drew  themselves  up ;  in  fine,  all  found  the 

*  En  pirouette — ^whirling  on  the  point  of  th«  toes. 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE.  ^l"? 

reverence  en  pirouette  to  be  a  very  questionable 
experiment.  At  length,  a  member  of  the  divan  pi*o- 
posed  the  alternative,  that  since  resigning  the  honor 
was  not  even  to  be  thought  of,  they  should  prepare  by 
exercise  and  practice,  for  duly  appearing  in  the  court 
circular.  No  sooner  said  than  done ;  the  decision 
gave  universal  satisfaction.  The  conclave  broke  up 
and  for  the  ne^  fifteen  days,  in  all  the  drawing-rooms 
of  the  venerable  city  of  Cologne,  from  morning  till 
night,  the  ladies  were  twirling  away  like  so  many 
spinning-tops  or  dancing  dervishes.  Nothing  was 
talked  of  during  the  same  space  but  these  evolutions ; 
how  many  circumgirations  one  could  make  and  yet 
keep  her  feet ;  how  many  falls  another  had  got,  or  how 
gracefully  a  third  performed.  Happily,  on  the  evening 
when  the  court  did  actually  arrive,  and  consequently 
on  that  preceding  the  ceremonial,  which  had  given  rise 

*  to  all  this  activity,  the  original  propounder  of  the 
motion  bethought  her  of  calling  upon  one  of  the  Em- 
press' ladies  for  still  more  precise  instructions.  The 
redoubted  pirouette  was  now  found  to  have  been  mis- 
understood, implying  simply  a  gentle  inclination,  in 
rising,  towards  the  personages  of  the  court ;  and  Jose- 
phine had  the  satisfaction  of  being  amused  by  the 
recital  in  private,  and  thus  escaped  the  mortification  of 
beholding  her  visitors  of  the  morrow  transferred  into 
so  many  rotary  machines." 

For  Josephine,  "  the  etiquette  of  which  at  first  she 
chiefly  complained,  was  that  which  compelled  her  to 

►   remain  seated  while  she  received  those  who  had  re- 


218  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

cently  been  her  equals,  or  even  her  superiors  in  rank." 
But  if  obliged  to  assume  this  semblance  of  superiority 
riie  quickly  removed  all  the  coldness  and  formality  it 
might  have  occasioned,  by  her  friendly  warmth  of 
manner  toward  her  old  acquaintance.  Even  her  hum- 
ble domestics  found  her  always  interested  in  whatever 
related  to  their  health  or  comfort,  or  their  establishment 
in  life.  She  would  sometimes  evea.  submit  to  be 
annoyed  by  intrusion  and  importunity,  rather  than 
wound  the  feelings  of  those  who  applied  to  her. 

With  all  her  native  gracefulness  of  manner — she 
plainly  felt  more  embarrassment  in  the  observance  of 
imperial  forms  than  Napoleon.  She  once  remarked 
upon  this  subject,  "  Most  truly  do  I  regard  the  Empe 
ror  as  a  man  who  has  no  equal.  In  camps,  at  the 
council-board,  they  find  him  extraordinary,  but  in  the 
interior  of  his  palace  he  ever  appeared  to  me  still  more 
remarkable."  * 

Bonaparte,  in  selecting  his  marshals,  planning  a  de- 
cisive battle,  and  in  the  ordering  of  his  court,  exhibited 
the  same  profound  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and 
sublime  confidence  in  his  own  unaided  powers,  what- 
ever the  emergency  that  demanded  their  action.  He 
looked  for  qualities  not  titles,  in  those  he  called  about 
him  to  carry  forward  measures  that  came  from  the 
crucible  of  his  intense  thought,  bearing  alone  his  "  im- 
age and  superscription ;"  and  despised  pomp  except 
when  indispensable  in  the  centralization  and  support 
of  his  regal  authority.  Josephine  understood  this 
phase  of  his  character  perfectly,  and  thus  spoke  of  it 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  219 

in  the  charity  and  admiration  of  a  noble  wife.  "  Lan- 
nes,  who  enjoyed  full  license  of  speech,  made  mockery 
of  what  he  termed  *  the  hypocrisies  of  political  wor- 
ship;'  but,  estimating  such  things  at  their  ^1  value, 
the  Emperor  regards  them  under  relations  more  ele- 
vated, and  conceives  that,  in  the  eyes  of  the  people, 
they  conduce  to  restore  to  power  the  majesty  and 
ascendency  which  so  many  years  of  anarchy  had  de- 
stroyed. He  grants,  in  truth,  that  their  principal 
influence  springs  from  the  personal  qualities  of  those 
invested  with  the  supreme  rule;  but  he  maintains, 
that,  without  equalling  or  superseding  these  qualities, 
ceremonial  institutions  may  supply  their  place  with 
advantage.  In  supporting  such  a  system.  Napoleon 
shows  himself  at  least  very  disinterested,  for  who  can 
stand  less  in  need  of  appliances  to  impose  upon  men 
than  one  who  seems  born  to  govern  ?  In  proof  of  his 
argument,  he  adduces  the  example  of  a  crowd  of 
princes  who  have  reigned,  so  to  speak,  rather  seated 
or  lying  than  standing  upright,  but  whose  couch, 
guarded  by  the  barriers  of  etiquette,  has  been  respect- 
ed like  a  sanctuary." 

The  Empress,  while  thus  moving  amid  the  splendor 
of  her  exaltation,  continued  to  embrace  gladly  every 
opportunity  of  alleviating  the  sorrow  of  those  who  had 
suffered  in  the  revolutionary  struggles  of  the  nation. 
A  note  addressed  to  Madam  de  Montesson,  (mother- 
in-law  of  Louis  Philippe,  Napoleon's  successor  in  maj- 
esty and  dethronement,)  upon  receiving  an  elegant  gift 
from  her,  accompanied  with  beautiful   specimens  of 


220  UPK  OF  josephhsb, 

embroidery  wrought  by  Madam  la  Tour  and  her  daugh- 
ter, as  an  expression  of  gratitude  for  the  Empress'  in- 
terposition in  behalf  of  their  relatives,  the  Polignacs, 
is  another  turn  to  the  kaleidescope  of  her  manifold 
virtues. 

"  Being  prevented  from  offering  in  person  my  good 
wishes  on  this  day,  I  console  m'yself  in  the  assurance 
that  you  give  me  credit  for  their  sincerity.  I  send 
you  two  vases,  which  will  recall  me  to  your  remem- 
brance, though  the  flowers  upon  them  are  far  from 
being  so  beautiful  as  those  painted  by  your  hand  upon 
my  charming  table  of  white  marble.  I  value  it  as 
everything  deserves  to  be  valued  that  comes  from  you, 
and  request  you  again  to  accept  my  thanks.  Marshal 
Berthier  tells  me  he  dines  with  you  to-day.  He  loves 
you ;  and  on  that  account  have  I  commissioned  him 
to  repeat,  in  my  name,  how  much  I  regret  not  being 
able  to  follow  my  own  inclination,  which  would  quite 
naturally  lead  me  to  Romainville,  to  join  your  family 
and  numerous  friends,  at  the  head  of  whom  I  have  the 
presumption  to  place  myself,  though  I  can  but  so  rarely 
enjoy  my  share  of  the  pleasure  which  they  derive  from 
a  conversation  agreeable  to  all,  instructive  and  useful 
to  most. 

"  The  poor  woman  whom  you  recommended  to  me, 
is  satisfied  with  a  small  appointment  for  her  son.  It 
will  afford  time  for  something  better.  Be  assured,  I 
will  not  forget  them.  Present  my  thanks  to  the  ladies 
of  your  circle,  for  the  beautiful  works  I  received  from 
them.    It  is  decided,  that  every  one  who  approachea 


ZJFB  OF  JOSSPHUnX  221 

you  shall  possess  some  perfection.  Why,  then,  am  1 
so  far  distant  ?  Adieu,  dear  mamma.  Love  me,  and 
let  me  ever  have  your  advice :  for  it  is  very  difficult 
to  fill  the  place  which  I  occupy  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all — and  that  is  what  I  wish." 

Josephine  has  been  accused  of  extravagance.  In- 
deed, it  cannot  be  doubted  that  her  expenses  seemed 
extremely  lavish  to  her  husband,  who  would  at  any 
time  "  rather  expend  a  million  francs,  than  see  a  thou- 
sand wasted."  But  though  we  must  own  that  her  fa- 
cile nature  made  her  too  ready  to  purchase  of  those 
•who  were  constantly  pressing  upon  her  the  most  costly 
articles,  with  the  most  cogent  reasons  for  her  buying 
them  ;  still,  a  record  of  her  expenses,  had  she  kept  one, 
would  probably  show,  that  much  of  her  property  was 
bestowed  in  charity.  Her  heart  melted  at  a  tale  of 
suffering,  nor  could  the  frequent  impositions  practised 
upon  her,  make  her  hand  less  ready  to  bestow  its 
bounty.  She  herself  said,  in  answering  a  charge  of 
extravagance  conveyed  to  her  from  her  husband  by  a 
friend :  "  When  I  have  money,  Bourrienne,  you  know 
how  I  employ  it.  I  give  it  principally  to  the  unfortu- 
nate who  solicit  my  assistance,  and  to  the  poor  emi- 
grants. But  I  will  try  to  be  more  economical  in  fu- 
ture. Tell  the  Emperor  so,  if  you  see  him  again. 
But  is  it  not  my  duty  to  bestow  as  much  charity  as  I 
can  ?" 

Soon  after  Bonaparte  was  declared  Emperor,  and 
before  his  coronation,  he  determined  to  visit  Boulogne, 
and  distribute  among  the  army  there  assembled  the 


222  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHDfE. 

decorations  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  It  was  arranged 
that  the  Empress  should  leave  her  home  on  the  same 
day,  and  meet  him  in  Belgium.  Josephine,  as  was 
usual  when  she  journeyed  without  her  husband,  was 
attended  by  several  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  court; 
and  every  circumstance  of  the  journey,  the  routes,  the 
stopping  places,  the  addresses  to  the  authorities,  &c., 
were  unalterably  determined  upon  beforehand  by  Na- 
poleon, and  set  down  in  a  manuscript  volume  of  in- 
structions. To  these  Josephine  rigidly  adhered,  con- 
stantly silencing  any  suggestion  of  change,  with  the 
expression,  "He  has  said  it,  and  it  must  he  right." 
Never  was  the  amiability  and  sweetness  of  her  dispo- 
sition more  conspicuous  than  on  these  journeys.  Every 
opportunity  of  showing  attention  to  the  tastes  and  feel- 
ings of  her  attendants,  was  embraced  with  readiness, 
and  with  an  unostentatious  simplicity,  that  won  their 
hearts.  Sometimes  her  good  nature  was  excessive, 
and  exposed  her  to  vexation  from  the  pretension  of 
some  whom  concession  always  renders  exacting 
When  travelling,  Josephine  would  often  breakfast  in 
some  delightful  spot,  under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  over- 
looking a  fine  country.  On  these  occasions,  if  any 
worthy  persons  struggling  with  poverty,  or  any  objects 
of  charity  came  under  her  notice,  they  were  sure  to 
be  munificently  provided  for. 

Her  grace  and  tact  were  conspicuous  in  receiving 
and  replying  to  congratulatory  addresses  from  the  au- 
thorities in  the  cities  or  towns  through  which  she 
passed.     Her  self-possession  never  forsook  her,  and  her 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  223 

words  were  treasured  by  her  hearers,  like  those  of  the 
fairy  in  the  fable,  whose  speech  was  jewels  and  pearls. 
Napoleon  in  the  mean  time  enjoyed  a  military  dis- 
play which  was  to  him  one  of  the  proudest  occasions 
in  his  career  of  glory.  In  the  vicinity  of  Camps  Bou- 
logne and  Montreuil,  eighty  thousand  men  under  Mar- 
shal Soult,  w^ere  assembled  upon  an  extended  plain,  to 
attend  the  distribution  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  In 
the  centre  of  this  circular  champaign,  was  a  hill,  from 
whose  base  the  ground  rose  with  a  gentle  slope,  form- 
ing a  grand  natural  amphitheatre  for  the  imposing 
ceremony.  On  this  elevation  stood  Napoleon,  en- 
circled by  his  splendid  staff,  while  around  the  dazzling 
pageant,  the  magnificent  host  spread  away  in  diverg- 
ing lines,  like  "  so  many  rays"  from  the  central  orb. 
The  Emperor  surveyed  the  scene  a  few  moments  with 
a  glowing  eye  and  smile  of  triumph,  then  rose,  and 
from  that  emerald  throne  beneath  an  azure  dome,  with 
a  loud  voice  uttered  again  the  oath  administered  at 
the  Hospital  of  Invalides  but  a  short  time  before.  It 
was  followed  by  a  burst  of  enthusiasm  that  filled  the 
very  heavens  with  acclamations,  until  the  idol  of  that 
worship,  might  have  fancied  that  even  the  solemn 
ocean  slumbering  in  the  distance  was  waiting  his  com- 
mand. Indeed,  so  it  seemed  soon  after  to  those  ardent 
devotees  of  genius,  when  a  storm  which  had  suddenly 
arisen  and  threatened  the  destruction  of  the  flotilla 
lying  out  of  harbor,  just  as  he  reached  the  coast,  ceased 
to  rage,  and  beneath  a  brightening  sky,  the  vessels  sail- 
ed safely  into  port.     Napoleon  returned  to  the  camp. 


224  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHETE. 

and  the  entire  plain  became  the  theatre  of  pastimes 
and  rejoicings.  When  evening  darkened  the  landscape 
rockets  went  up  in  a  constant  blaze,  and  columns  of 
liorhtmade  an  illumination  which  was  visible  from  the 
British  side  of  the  strait.  While  the  Emperor  was  de- 
lighted with  these  exciting  demonstrations  of  loyalty, 
Josephine  was  more  quietly  receiving  the  homage  of 
the  people.  She  had  reached  Aix  la  Chapelle,  and  dis- 
pensing with  all  unnecessary  etiquette,  lived  in  her 
miniature  court,  and  frequented  the  baths.  One  eve- 
ning she  observed  that  her  ladies  were  destitute  of  en 
tertainment  and  inclined  to  ennui.  Her  generous 
spirit  immediately  resolved  on  some  new  adventure. 
She  proposed  a  visit  to  a  model  of  Paris,  of  which  she 
had  just  heard,  remarkable  both  for  its  i^semblance  to 
the  original,  and  its  beauty.  The  chevalier  M.  d'Har- 
ville  was  about  summoning  the  cortege  with  the  impe- 
rial carriages,  when  Josephine  insisted  on  walking  to 
the  hall  of  exhibition.  He  protested  against  a  liberty 
which  bordered  on  indecorum,  but  in  vain.  Scarcely 
were  the  group  in  progress,  before  the  news  spread, 
and  the  illuminated  streets  were  thronged  with  the 
populace,  so  that  with  difficulty  she  pressed  through 
the  dense  crowd,  and  finally  arrived  at  her  saloon,  fol- 
lowed by  the  applause  of  the  multitude.  This  natural- 
ness of  character,  which  was  proof  against  adulation 
and  honors,  was  no  less  admirable  than  rare. 

At  Aix  la  Chapelle  she  was  joined  by  her  husband 
He  did  not  conceal  the  fact  that  he  had  been  made 
acpuainted  with  all  the  circumstances  of  the  Empress 


LIFE  OF  JOaSPBHTB, 

and  her  attendants,  nor  his  suspicions  which  ever 
thronged  him  like  an  army  of  grim  spectres.  Jose- 
phine's very  kindnesses  were  turned  into  weapons  of 
calumny  by  secret  enemies.  An  aged  officer  unaccus- 
tomed to  court,  was  presented,  and  immediately  seated 
himself  upon  the  same  sofa  with  the  Empress.  She 
was  unwilling  to  mortify  or  wound  the  heart  of  the  old 
soldier,  and  he'  was  permitted  to  withdraw  at  leisure. 
It  was  reported  to  Bonaparte  that  she  had  submitted 
to  such  a  familiarity  on  the  part  of  General  Lorges, 
the  commandant  at  Aix  la  Chapelle,  who  was  a  young 
and  handsome  man;  this  of  course  prepared  him  for 
a  domestic  storm,  so  far  as  his  unaided  will  could 
create  one.  As  usual  in  such  affairs,  Josephine  quiet- 
ly gave  the  facts,  and  left  them  to  take  silent  effect 
upon  liim,  and  calm  his  passions.  Conscious  inno- 
cence sustained  her,  although  a  frown  from  Napoleon, 
fell  like  the  bolt  and  the  gloom  of  the  thunder-cloud 
upon  her  sensitive  nature.  But  these  difficulties 
passed,  followed  by  a  succession  of  brilliant  displays 
of  popular  feeling.  The  princes  of  the  Rhenish  Con- 
tederation  crowded  around  the  new  Sovereign  of 
France,  to  render  their  homage,  and  for  hours  together 
a  cavalcade  of  loyal  citizens  would  emulate  each  other 
m  expressions  of  transport  over  the  enthronement  of 
their  republican  king.  An  incident  is  related  of  their 
entrance  into  Mayence,  en  route  to  Paris,  that  brings 
the  imperial  travellers  in  strong  contrast,  and  discloses 
the  cruelty  of  Bonaparte  to  Josephine,  when  his  pride 
was  wounded,  or  his  anger  kindled. 


226  LIFE   OF   JOSEPUINE. 

"  At  Coblentz  Napoleon  and  Josephine  again  sepa- 
rated, the  former  to  reach  Mayenne  by  a  new  road 
which  he  had  caused  to  be  constructed  along  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine,  the  latter  to  ascend  the  river  by 
water.  The  voyage  should  have  terminated  by  eleven 
o'clock  of  the  second  day,  but  the  two  yachts  which 
carried  the  Empress  and  her  suite  encountered  a 
severe  storm  near  Bingen,  where  they  put  up  for  the 
night,  and  on  starting  next  day  some  confusion  arose 
in  the  relays  stationed  to  drag  the  flotilla  against  the 
stream.  This,  with  Josephine's  indisposition,  caused  a 
delay  of  four  hours,  and  she  arrived  at  Mayence  only 
at  three  o'clock.  This  was  precisely  the  hour  which 
the  Emperor  had  appointed  for  his  own  entree,  and 
the  inhabitants  were  thus  reduced  to  choose  between 
whom  they  would  attend.  The  Empress  obtained 
'  the  most  sweet  voices ;'  and  while  the  ramparts  and 
quays  overlooking  the  Rhine,  crowded  with  an  eager 
population,  resounded  with  acclamations  of '  Long  live 
the  Empress !'  her  lord  was  left  to  traverse  empty 
streets,  where  the  houses,  shut  up  and  deserted,  sent 
forth  not  a  single  voice  to  say  '  God  bless  him  1'  In 
this  guise  his  carriage  arrived  in  the  court  of  the 
palace,  at  the  same  instant  Josephine  appeared  at 
the  opposite  entrance,  surrounded  by  the  authorities, 
and  accompanied  seemingly  by  all  of  man,  woman  and 
child,  contained  in  Mayence.  This  was  beyond  en- 
durance— at  least  beyond  Napoleon's ;  so  giving  one 
short,  pettish  nod,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  shut  him- 
self up  in  his  apartment.     The  court  was   informed 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  227 

that  the  Emperor  and  Empress  would  dine  alone 
Seven,  the  usual  hour — eight — nine  o'clock  passed 
and  no  invitation  to  the  wonder-struck  courtiers  to  re- 
join the  circle  in  the  djawing-room.  At  length  the 
summons  arrived ;  but,  on  entering,  they  found  no- 
body. A  few  minutes  after  they  beheld  Napoleon 
leave  Josephine's  apartments  and  retire  to  his  own, 
favoring  them  with  his  usual  curt  salutation  of  ill-hu- 
mor as  he  crossed  the  saloon.  The  first  lady  of  honor 
then  entered  to  Josephine.  She  was  in  tears,  and  ex- 
tremely unwell.  She 'had  endured  for  hours  a  scene 
of  violence  and  outrage,  Bonaparte  accusing  her  of 
having  intentionally  retarded  her  arrival  in  order  to 
interfere  with  his  entrance,  reproaching  her  with  a 
systematic  design  of  captivating  the  suffrages  of  the 
public." 

At  the  latter  place  she  met  the  young  Princess  ot 
Baden,  a  lady  recommended  by  Talleyrand  to  Bona- 
parte, as  a  suitable  partner  of  his  throne  when  he  should 
for  reasons  of  state  policy,  divorce  his  faithful  Jose- 
phine. Her  surprise  and  gratification  were  extreme, 
to  find  this  person,  who  had  been  represented  as  a  mo- 
del of  beauty  and  grace,  the  perfect  contrast  of  herself 
in  both  these  respects ;  nor  was  her  satisfaction  dimin- 
ished that  Napoleon  himself  seemed  struck  with  this 
contrast.  Her  apprehensions  from  this  quarter  were 
therefore  quieted,  alas,  how  soon  to  be  revived  in  an- 
other, and  to  be  but  too  fearfully  realized ! 

A  story  is  related  of  the  two  Princesses  of  Baden, 

which  shows  that  however  deficient  they  may  h»T* 
15  J* 


2M  LIFB  OF  JOSETHINE. 

been  in  elegance,  they  were  not  wanting  in  a  certain 
cleveraess.  Having  waited  on  the  Empress  to  accom- 
pany her  to  the  opera,  she  perceivfed  they  had  come 
without  shawls;  and  as  the  evening  was  cold,  she 
good-naturedly  put  one  of  her  own  around  each  of 
them.  This  courtesy  they  acknowledged  the  next 
morning  in  a  complimentary  billet ;  assuring  her  ma- 
jesty they  would  keep  the  shawls  as  a  memorial  of  her. 
Of  course  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  accede  with 
as  good  grace  as  possible ;  rather  a  difficult  task,  as 
the  shawls  were  white  cashmere!* 

During  the  stay  at  Mayence,  Josephine  was  again 
comparatively  happy.  There  were"  bright  mornings 
when  neither  military  nor  civic  duties  demanded  the 
attention  of  Napoleon ;  and  the  family  group  went  out 
upon  the  green  banks  of  the  Rhine,  or  a  peaceful 
jsland  sleeping  on  its  bosom,  and  after  breakfasting  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  foliage,  walked  along  the  mar- 
gin of  the  flashing  waters — whose  murmur  with  the 
music  of  birds,  was  more  grateful  to  the  Empress  than 
the  salute  of  artillery,  or  the  acclamations  of  the  ex- 
cited and  fickle  multitude.  The  peasantry  often  looked 
with  silent  wonder  upon  a  scene  so  novel  and  splendid. 
To  their  eye  the  rural  banquet  of  that  royal  household, 
was  a  spectacle  of  bewildering  magnificence,  more 
like  a  glorious  vision,  than  the  common  life  of  mortals. 
Sometimes  these  humble  spectators  were  objects  of 
charity,  and   arrested  the  attention  of  Bonaparte  or 

*  A  cashmere  shawl  was  at  that  time  worth,  in  France,  nearly  as 
much  as  a  small  estate. 


.^ 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  229 

Josephine.  Observing  a  poor  woman  on  one  occasion 
beholding  them  with  a  sad  interest,  he  sent  for  her, 
and  inquired  "  If  she  had  ever  dreamed  she  was  rich  ?" 
With  hesitation  she  answered,  "I  have  thought  the 
person  who  possessed  five  hundred  florins,  (about  fifty 
pounds,)  would  be  the  richest  in  the  world."  "  Her 
dream  is  a  little  too  dear,"  Napoleon  remarked,  "  but 
it  matters  not — we  must  realize  it."  The  sum  was 
collected  and  paid  to  the  dreamer,  who  gazed  with 
amazement  and  rapture  at  a  pile  of  gold  which  was  all 
her  ambition  had  in  fancy  ever  grasped.  Not  long 
afterward,  the  Empress  was  taking  a  morning  walk 
around  the  island,  when  she  encountered  a  woman  in 
the  garb  of  extreme  poverty,  sitting  upon  the  ground, 
and  nursing  a  babe.  Josephine  took  the  infant  in  her 
arms,  and  kindly  caressing  it,  dropped  a  tear  upon  its 
cheek ;  an  expression  of  sympathy,  but  doubtless  also 
of  painful  regret  that  she  was  still  unblest  in  her  gran- 
deur, with  the  very  gift  without  which,  she  knew  a 
fearful  uncertainty  hung  over  her  prospective  happi- 
ness. The  innocent  child  looked  up  and  smiled  upon 
the  loving  face  shaded  with  conflicting  emotions,  and 
^ossed  its  little  arms  toward  the  musing  and  grieving 
Empress.  Dropping  a  purse  of  a  hundred  francs  into 
the  mother's  hand,  she  turned  away,  followed  by  the 
blessing  of  a  humble  and  grateful  subject.  The  even- 
ings were  passed  in  conversation  or  light  amusement. 
As  before  stated,  upon  the  authority  of  Josephine,  Bon- 
aparte, when  pleased  and  interested,  conversed  with 
great  fluency  and  power.     He  not  unfrequently  intro* 


iryu  LIFE  OF  JOSEPUINE. 

duced  sculpture,  music  or  painting,  and  discussed  with 
freedom  the  great  masters  in  art.  He  was  acquainted 
with  metaphysics,  and  engaged  in  animated  argument 
with  Cambaceres,  who  had  studied  Kant  and  admired 
his  system,  upon  ethical  questions,  or  disputed  points 
in  mental  science.  But  love  was  the  most  common 
topic;  and  we  are  assured  that  he  could  expatiate  upon 
that  theme  with  eloquence  and  dramatic  effect  not  un- 
worthy of  his  model  in  this  department,  the  celebrated 
Talma.  His  appreciation  of  female  character,  how- 
ever, as  has  been  seen,  was  small — his  early  experience 
and  subsequent  observation,  added  to  his  poor,  opinion 
of  the  masses,  and  his  unbounded  self-esteem,  gave  to 
woman  a  rank  entirely  below  her  true  position  when 
elevated  by  culture,  and  ennobled  by  religious  princi- 
ple. Reclining  carelessly  on  a  sofa,  like  all  contem- 
plative minds,  he  was  particularly  fond  of  talking  or 
sitting  quietly  at  the  hour  of  twilight,  and  as  darkness 
deepened  about  him,  his  intellect  gathered  strength, 
and  some  of  his  finest  thoughts  were  uttered.  Much 
has  been  said  concerning  his  brief  repose,  and  miracu- 
lous endurance  of  wakefulness  and  exhausting  activity. 
Upon  this  subject,  a  member  of  the  travelling  party 
has  sensibly  written  :  "  One  thing  I  had  formerly  re- 
marked, but  more  particularly  auring  the  present 
journey, namely,  the  mistake  under  which  the  world 
labored  respecting  Napoleon.  The  vulgar  belief  is,  that 
he  almost  never  sleeps,  and  works  constantly  ;  but  I 
see  that  if  he  rise  early  to  inspect  his  regiments  he 
takes  good  care  to  make  up  for  it  at  night.     Tester- 


LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE.  231 

day,  for  instance,  he  got  on  horseback  exactly  at  five 
for  a  review,  but  in  the  evening  he  retired  at  nine,  and 
Josephine  told  us  he  had  gone  to  bed.  As  to  his  im- 
moderate use  of  coffee,  again,  in  order  to  keep  off  sleep 
—he  takes  one  cup  after  breakfast,  and  another  after 
dinner.  But  it  is  ever  thus  with  the  public  :  when  an 
.individual,  placed  in  fortunate  circumstances,  is  en- 
abled to  accomplish  great  things,  mankind  instantly 
convert  these  into  marvels,  and  place  them  to  the  ac- 
count of  genius." 

This  journey,  though  attended  with  some  slight  mor- 
tificatioDs,  was  always  spoken  of  by  Josephine,  as  one 
of  the  most  delightful  of  her  life.  It  seemed  to  ban- 
ish from  her  mind  for  a  time  the  sadness  occasioned 
by  her  hopeless  exertions  in  behalf  of  many  of  the  vic- 
tims of  an  alleged  conspiracy;  while  Napoleon's  kind- 
ness encouraged  the  transitory  hope  that  her  dark 
forebodings  might  never  be  realized. 

Napoleon  was  now  at  the  summit  of  power  in 
France,  but  it  was  his  desire  to  go  through  the  impo- 
sing ceremony  of  a  public  coronation.  No  bishop  in 
the  empire  was,  however,  competent  to  the  task  ;  the 
Pope  of  Rome,  Christ's  vicar  upon  earth,  must  be 
called  from  the  Vatican  to  Paris,  to  assist  in  the  splen- 
did pageant.  The  audacious  summons  was  complied 
with;  the  venerable  Pius  VII.  was  received  by  the 
Emperor  and  his  court  at  Fontainebleau,  conducted 
with  every  mark  of  respect  to  the  Tuilleries,  and  en- 
tertained there  for  many  months,  with  the  honors  due 
to  his  exalted  station.     The  Empress  esjjccially  seems 


232  LIPB  OF  JOSEPHIIITB. 

from  his  arrival,  to  have  felt  for  him  the  sincerest  re- 
gard and  veneration ;  and  a  letter  which  she  ad- 
dressed to  him  previous  to  her  coronation,  gives  a 
pleasing  proof  of  her  humility  and  desire  to  be  guided 
aright  in  the  new  rank  to  which  Providence  had 
raised  her. 

THE    EMPRESS    TO    HIS    HOLINESS    PIUS    VII. 

•*  Whatever  experience  of  human  change  the  knowl- 
edge of  our  religion  may  have  taught,  your  holiness 
will  view,  doubtless  not  without  astonishment,  an  ob- 
scure woman  ready  to  receive  from  your  hands  the 
first  among  the  crowns  of  Europe.  In  an  event  so  far 
beyond  the  ordinary  course,  she  recognizes  and  blesses 
the  work  of  the  Almighty,  without  daring  to  inquire 
into  his  purposes.  But,  holy  father,  I  should  be  still 
ungrateful,  even  while  I  magnified  the  power  of  God, 
if  I  poured  not  out  my  soul  into  the  paternal  bosom  of 
him  who  has  been  chosen  to  represent  his  providence 
— if  I  confided  not  to  you  my  Secret  thoughts.  The 
first  and  chief  of  these  is  the  conviction  of  my  own 
weakness  and  incapacity.  Of  myself  I  can  do  noth- 
ing, or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  the  little  I  can  do  is 
derived  solely  from  the  extraordinary  man  with  whom 
my  lot  is  cast.  This  falling  back  upon  myself,  by 
which  I  am  sometimes  cast  down,  serves,  upon  more 
mature  reflection,  to  encourage  me.  I  say  in  my  own 
heart,  is  not  the  arm  which  causes  the  earth  to  trem- 
ble, amply  sufficient  to  sustain  me  ?    But  how  many 


UFB  OF  JK>SEPHIEnS<  8S8 

are  the  difficulties  which  surround  the  station  to  which 
that  arm  has  raised  me !  I  do  not  speak  of  the  cor- 
ruption which,  in  the  midst  of  greatness,  has  tainted 
the  purest  minds ;  I  can  rely  upon  my  own,  so  far  as 
in  this  respect  not  to  fear  elevation.  But  from  a 
height  whence  all  other  dignities  must  appear  mean, 
how  shall  I  distinguish  real  poverty  ?  Ah !  truly  do  I 
feel  that,  in  becoming  Empress  of  the  French,  I  ought 
also  to  become  to  them  as  a  mother  :  at  the  same  time, 
what  would  it  avail  to  bear  them  in  my  heart,  if  I 
proved  my  affection  for  them  only  by  my  intentions  ? 
Deeds  are  what  people  have  a  right  to  demand  from 
those  who  govern  them;  and  your  holiness,  who  so 
well  replies  to  the  respectful  love  of  your  subjects  by 
continual  acts  of  justice  and  benevolence,  more  than 
any  other  sovereign,  is  qualified  to  instruct  me  by  ex- 
ample in  the  efficacy  of  this  doctrine.  Oh,  then,  holy 
father!  may  you,  with  the  sacred  unctions  poured 
upon  my  head,  not  only  awaken  me  to  the  truth  of 
those  precepts  which  my  heart  acknowledges,  but  also 
confirm  the  resolution  of  applying  them  to  practice !" 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  Pope  was  under  obliga- 
tions to  Bonaparte,  for  his  exertions  in  behalf  of  the 
re-establishment  of  the  Romish  religion,  which,  during 
the  reign  of  terror,  had  been  well-nigh  superseded  in 
France,  by  the  most  impious  infidelity  and  atheism. 
The  Emperor  now  further  testified  his  respect  for  re- 
ligion, by  causing  his  marriage,  which  had  only  been  a 
legal  ceremony  performed  by  a  magistrate,  to  be  coni 


234  UPB  OP  jtesEPHnra. 

secrated  by  a  nuptial  benediction  from  Cardinal  Fesch, 
in  the  private  chapel  of  the  Tuilleries. 

The  coronation  surpassed  in  magnificence  all  that 
had  ever  preceded  it.  The  dress  of  the  Empress  was 
in  itself  elegant,  and  arranged  with  that  taste  in  which 
she  excelled  all  the  ladies  of  her  time — the  effect  must 
have  been  unequalled.  A  drapery  of  white  satin,  em- 
broidered on  the  skirt  with  gold,  and  on  the  breast 
with  diamonds;  a  mantle  of  the  richest  crimson  velvet 
lined  with  ermine,  and  satin  embroidered  with  gold ;  "a 
girdle  of  gold  so  pure  as  to  be  quite  elastic,  and  set 
with  large  diamonds,  formed  her  dress;  and  on  her 
head  she  wore  a  splendid  diadem  of  pearls  and  dia- 
monds, the  workmanship  of  which  had  employed  the 
first  artists  of  the  capital.  How  her  thoughts  must 
have  reverted  to  her  first  marriage,  when,  as  she  used 
to  relate  with  great  simplicity,  she  carried  the  few 
trinkets  given  her  by  Beauharnais,  for  some  days  in 
her  pocket  to  exhibit  to  admiring  acquaintances. 

Bonaparte's  dress  was  quite  as  gorgeous,  and  must 
have  reminded  him  that  he  had  indeed  assumed  the 
weight  of  empire,  for  the  mantle  alone  is  said  to  have 
weighed  eighty  pounds.  Indeed,  he  was  by  no  means 
elated  with  this  display  of  finery,  but  submitted  to  it  as 
part  of  the  system  of  personal  aggrandizement,  to 
which  he  adhered  at  whatever  sacrifice  of  comfort. 
We  can  readily  imagine  that  the  hardy  soldier  must 
have  been  much  less  at  his  ease,  in  his  white  silk 
stockings,  and  white  buskins  laced  and  embroidered 
with  gold,  that  when  shortly  afterward  he  appeared  on 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.      .  235 

-the  plain  of  Marengo,  on  the  anniversary  of  his  great 
victory  there,  in  the  identical  cap  and  cloak  pierced 
with  bullet  holes  which  he  had  worn  in  that  battle,  and 
there,  surrounded  by  thirty  thousand  of  his  troops,  dis- 
tributed the  decorations  of  the  Legion  of  Honor. 

The  imperial  carriage,  panelled  with  mirror,  and 
drawn  by  eight  horses  like  the  ancient  regal  coaches 
of  the  empire,  attended  by  horsemen  to  the  number  of 
ten  thousand,  and  double  lines  of  infantry  a  mile  and  a 
half  in  length,  and  gazed  at  by  four  hundred  thousand 
spectators,  proceeded  to  the  church  of  Notre  Dame, 
which  had  been  magnificently  embellished  for  the 
occasion.  The  incessant  thunder  of  artillery  rolled 
over  that  tumultuous  sea  of  humanity,  whose  shouts 
rose  in  one  loud  acclamation.  While  the  grand  pro- 
cession was  slowly  moving  forward,  the  clouds  which 
had  hung  darkly  over  the  city  suddenly  parted,  and  the 
clear  sunlight  fell  upon  the  gay  uniform,  golden  trap- 
pings, and  burnished  arms,  till  the  reflection  was  a 
blended  brightness  that  gave  the  finishing  halo  of  glory 
to  this  regal  march.  Arriving  at  the  archiepiscopal 
palace,  the  cortege  paused,  while  beneath  a  high  arch 
way  from  which  floated  the  banners  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  the  royal  group  entered  the  cathedral,  where  a 
throne  was  prepared  for  the  most  influential  and  re- 
markable sovereign  of  Europe.  It  was  placed  opposite 
the  principal  entrance  on  a  platform,  whose  elevation 
was  reached  by  twenty-two  semi-circular  steps  richly 
carpeted  and  gleaming  with  golden  bees.  Here  were 
standing  the  high  officers  of  the  realm  in  solemn  state. 


290  LIP*  OP  irOsBPHilrfi, 

The  drapery  of  the  throne  was  crimson  velvet,  Tinder 
a  canopy  of  which  appeared  Napoleon  and  Josephine, 
attended  by  his  brothers,  and  the  members  of  the 
imperial  family.  Four  hours  were  consumed  in  thd 
religious  services  by  a  choir  of  three  hundred,  and 
martial  airs  from  a  band  whose  number  was  still 
greater,  filling  the  wide  arches  of  that  temple  with  a 
tide  of  harmony  such  as  never  before  was  poured  over 
a  silent  throng  within  its  consecrated  walls.  At  length 
the  Emperor  arose,  and  taking  the  diadem  of  wrought 
gold,  calmly  placed  it  upon  his  brow.  Resolved  to 
impress  the  people  from  the  commencement  of  his 
reign,  that  he  ruled  in  his  own  right,  Pius,  was  nol 
permitted  to  touch  the  bauble  that  made  him  King— 
his  own  hand  alone  was  laid  upon  it.  Then  raising 
the  crown  designed  for  Josephine  to  his  head,  he  passed 
it  to  her  own,  Josephine,  always  natural,  and  there-- 
fore  always  interesting,  as  with  folded  arms  she  kneeled 
gracefully  before  him,  then  rising,  fixed  upon  him  a 
look  of  tenderness  and  gratitude,  while .  tears  fell  from 
her  eyes.  The  Bible  was  laid  upon  the  throne ;  Napo- 
leon placed  his  hand  upon  it,  and  in  a  voice  which  was 
distinctly  heard  throughout  the  immense  edifice,  pro- 
nounced the  customary  oaths  of  office.  A  simultane- 
ous  shout  broke  from  all  the  vast  assembly,  which  was 
echoed  by  the  crowds  without ;  while  the  thunders  of 
artilleiy  proclaimed  to  more  distant  places  that  Bona- 
parte was  Emperor  of  France. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TBANCE   ANjO   JOSiCPHINK     AT    THIS    PERIOD    OF     HI8TOKY. — RBJOICINQB     OP 

THE    PEOPLE. IMPOETANT   EVENTS. TOUR  TO  MILAN. NAPOLEON  VISITS 

BRIENNE. WITH   JOSEPHINE   CROSSES    THE   ALPS. PLAIN    OF    MARENUO. 

THE    CORONATION    AT   MILAN. SOJOURN   THERE. NEWS   OF   PROBABLB 

HOSTILITIES. JOSEPHINE    AT   GENOA. THE   RAPID   TRAVEL   TO   PARIS. 

PREPARATIONS     FOR     WAR. — JOSEPHINE     REGENT     OF    FRANCK LETTER 

TO   0AMBAGERE8. NAPOLEON's    VICTORIEa ARRIVAL    OF    A     COURIER. 

MARRIAGE     OF      EUGENE. JOSEPHINe's     LETTER     UPON     THE     EXPECTED 

MARRIAGE   OF    HER     NIECE     STEPHANIE     DE     BEAUHARNAIS. THE   ROYAL 

FAMILY. DOMESTIC  ARRANGEMENTS. BONAPARTe's  HABITS  AND  ILLNESS. 

HUNTING    EXCURSIONS. — HATRED  OF  BONAPAETE's  RELATIVES  TOWARDS 

JX>8EPHINE. HER    KINDNESS    IN   RETURN. NAPOLEON's   MOVEMENTS. 

There'  is  that  stirring  interest  in  the  position  of 
France  immediately  after  the  restoration  of  monarchy, 
and  also  of  Josephine,  which  belongs  to  the  consumma- 
tion of  a  long  series  of  events — a  point  of  observation 
from  which  we  can  look  back  and  mark  intelligently 
the  deep  and  decisive  causes  lying  below  the  agitations 
that  revolutionized  governments,  and  changed  the  as- 
pect of  the  world.  We  gaze  not  only  upon  the  past  as 
from  an  illumined  height,  but  almost  prophetically  read 
the  future  in  the  same  broad  light.  In  the  very  capital 
where  four  years  before  the  blind  Polyphemus,  of  a 
horrid  democracy,  had  declared  with  ghastly  triumph 
and  bacchanal  shouts,  "Royalty  is  abolished  forever!" 
the  joyous  salutation  rang  over  assembled  thousands 


238  LITE   OF   JOSEPHINE. 

and  a  throne  of  imposing  grandeur,  "  Long  live  the 
Emperor  !"  Within  the  temple-courts  where  altar  and 
cross  were  demolished,  and  "There  is  no  God,"  was 
unblushingly  uttered  amid  the  vilest  blasphemies,  the 
venerable  Pope  reverently  stood,  and  pronounced  the 
benediction  of  Heaven ;  while  the  Bible  was  solemnly 
recognized  as  the  hope  and  guardian  of  the  nation, 
upon  the^ear  of  one  who  so  recently  was  a  captive 
rembling  in  sight  of  the  crimson  guillotine,  fell  the 
swelling  acclamation,  "God  bless  the  Empress!" 

Through  the  manifold  phases  of  revolutionary  com- 
motion, France  had  become  tranquil  again  under  a 
sceptre  ;  and  Josephine,  after  the  strangest  contrasts  in 
condition — the  smile  of  fortune  and  the  midnight 
gloom  of  unutterable  sorrow,  was  more  than  queen 
of  a  proud  and  prosperous  kingdom.  Although  op- 
pression and  famine  exasperated  the  people  of  France, 
until  revolution  was  as  inevitable,  as  the  eruption  of  a 
volcano  when  its  sea  of  fire  is  lashed  into  billows,  they 
were  wholly  incapable  of  self-government :  inconstant 
in  native  character,  unenlightened  in  regard  to  the 
basis  of  a  true  republic,  and  wanting  well  nigh  univer- 
sally the  religious  element  of  strength,  they  could  do 
no  more  than  trample  in  the  dust  the  symbols  of 
power,  raze  from  its  foundation  the  civil  fabric,  and 
fling  the  reins  of  authority  upon  the  necks  of  a  lawless 
mob.  Therefore  after  the  wild  pastime  was  over,  and 
exhaustion  succeeding  the  terrific  convulsions,  created 
the  necessity  of  a  protector,  they  were  ready  to  cry 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  men  who  had  at  last  reached 


UFE  OF  JOSEPHIirE.  239, 

the  goal  of  their  hopes  and  bloody  struggles,  "  God 
save  the  King!" 

For  weeks  after  the  coronation,  which  took  place 
December  2d,  1804,  Paris  was  the  centre  of  jubilant 
festivity.  The  authoHties  of  the  city  at  a  fete  given 
by  them  in  the  apartments  selected  for  Josephine  in 
the  Hotel  de  Yille,  presented  her  with  a  full  toilet  ser- 
vice of  massive  gold,  and  other  expressions  of  loyalty 
and  personal  regard.  The  same  evening,  as  if  the 
popular  joy  vaulted  to  the  very  heavens,  a  magnificent 
balloon,  in  which  was  a  constellation  of  lamps,  and 
around  which  was  an  iron  net-work  forming  a  gigan- 
tic crown,  was  cut  from  its  fastenings,  and  rose  direct- 
ly above  the  capital,  then  slowly  sailing  southward, 
this  imperial  globe  of  light  became  a  vanishing  star, 
disappearing  from  the  straining  vision  of  the  multi- 
tudes, whose  voices  made  "  the  welkin  ring."  The 
shining  machine  traversed  half  of  the  continent,  and 
crossing  the  Alps  more  rapidly  than  the  conqueror  had 
ever  done,  whose  glory  it  heralded,  fell  after  a  circuit 
of  nine  hundred  miles  in  fifteen  days,  into  Lake  Brac- 
ciano,  to  the  astonishment  and  alarm  of  the  peasantry 
and  fishermen,  who  witnessed  its  descent  from  the 
peaceful  sky  to  the  bosom  of  the  waters. 

The  day  after  the  coronation,  two  great  events  in 
the  annals  of  Europe,  and  consequently  of  the  new 
dynasty,  had  transpired ; — the  treaty  concluded  be- 
tween England  and  Sweden,  and  the  declaration  of 
war  by  Spain  with  the  former  power.  England  in  her 
irritation  toward  France,  without  the  shadow  of  a 


240  LIFE   OF  /OSEPHJLNK. 

valid  reason,  claimed  the  right  of  searching  four 
Spanish  frigates  on  their  way  from  Mexico  to  Cadiz ; 
the  demand  was  repulsed,  and  a  battle  was  the  result 
followed  by  proclamation  of  war.  In  the  message  to 
the  Legislative  Assembly  communicated  in  person  at 
its  opening  towards  the  close  of  the  year,  Bonaparte 
alluded  to  this  affair,  in  language  that  created  a  sensa- 
tion throughout  Europe :  "  It  would  have  afforded  me 
pleasure,  on  this  solemn  occasion,  to  have  seen  peace 
reign  throughout  the  world  ;  but  the  political  principles 
of  our  enemies — their  recent  conduct  towards  Spain, 
sufficiently  show  the  difficulty  of  fulfilling  that  wish 
I  have  no  desire  to  aggrandize  the  territory  of  France, 
but  to  maintain  her  integrity.  I  have  no  ambition  to 
exercise  a  greater  influence  over  the  rest  of  Europe, 
but  I  will  not  lose  any  of  that  which  I  have  acquired 
No  state  will  be  incorporated  with  the  empire,  but  1 
will  not  sacrifice  my  rights  nor  the  ties  which  connect 
us  with  the  states  which  I  have  created."  Napoleon 
therefore  again  contemplated  soon  entering  the  field 
with  his  hitherto  invincible  army,  Josephine  foresaw 
the  probability  of  another  general  warfare,  and  as  ever, 
shrank  with  horror  she  dare  not  express,  from  the  pros- 
pect. Unutterable  sufferings  and  the  hazard  of  all 
the  hero  had  won,  was  the  painful  picture  before  her 
thought. 

Bonaparte  now  resolved  to  strengthen  his  reign  by 
re-moulding  his  Cis-alpine  republic  into  an  appendage 
of  the  Empire,  as  the  Kingdom  of  Italy.  In  April,  ac- 
companied by  Josephine,  he  set  out  for  Milan  to  se- 


LIFE    OF   JOSEPHINE.  241 

cure  the  crown  of  Lombardy.  At  Fontainebleau,  the 
Emperor  left  Josephine  for  Brienne,  which  he  liad  not 
visited  since  he  left  the  military  school,  to  revive  early 
associations  amid  scenes  made  familiar  by  the  pastimes 
of  boyhood.  It  had  the  magical  effect  on  his  feelings 
every  one  has  known  who,  after  a  long  absenc§^-om 
the  home  of  childhood,  has  gone  back  with  the  mem- 
ory of  eventful  years  contrasting  with  its  quiet  pleas- 
ures and  delightful  dreams.  Memes  thus  pleasantly 
records  some  of  the  reported  incidents  of  that  ex- 
cursion. 

"  After  passing  the  night  in  the  chateau  de  Brienne, 
he  got  up  early  in  the  morning  to  visit  La  Rothiere, 
formerly  a  holyday  haunt,  and  the  cottage  of  dame 
Marguerite,  a  woman  \\ho  lived  in  the  for«st,  and  at 
whose  abode  the  collegians,  in  their  rambles,  were 
wont  to  be  supplied  with  eggs,  cakes,  and  milk.  On 
such  occasions  each  paid  his  share,  and  the  good  dame 
had  not,  it  seems,  forgotten,  that  regular  payment 
might  be  depended  on  when  young  Napoleon  was  of 
the  party.  The  Emperor  had  inquired  about  the  old 
woman  over  night,  and  heard,  with  equal  surprise  and 
pleasure,  that  she  still  lived.  Galloping  almost  alone 
through  the  valleys  of  the  forest,  he  alighted  at  a  little 
distance,  and  entered  the  cottage.  '  Good  morning, 
dame  Marguerite ;  so  you  have  no  curiosity  to  see  the 
Emperor?'  'Yes,  indeed,  good  master,  I  am  very 
anxious  to  see  him,  and  here  is  a  basketful  of  fresh 
eggs  I  am  to  carry  to  the  chateau,  and  then  I  will  try 

to  get  a  sight  of  the  Emperor ;    I  shall  easily  know 

K 


242  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE. 

him,  for  I  have  seen  him  often  before  now,  when  he 
came  to  taste  my  milk ;  he  was  not  Emperor  then,  but 
o'  my  troth,  he  knew  how  to  manage  his  comrades , 
my  milk,  eggs,  cakes,  and  broken  plates,  were  sure  to 
be  paid  for  when  he  was  present ;  he  began  by  paying 
his^yvn  score,  and  saw  that  every  one  else  paid.'  '  So, 
dame  Marguerite,'  replied  the  Emperor  with  a  smile, 
'  you  have  not  then  forgotten  Bonaparte  ?'  '  Nay, 
nay,  my  good  master,  people  don't  soon  forget  a  young 
man  of  his  stamp  ;  we  all  remember  that  he  was  cau- 
tious, serious,  and  sometimes  even  melancholy,  but  al- 
ways good  to  the  poor.  I  am  no  great  witch,  but 
could  have  told  that  he  would  have  made  his  way.* 
'  He  has  done  pretty  well,  has  he  not  ?'  asked  Napo- 
leon, laughing.  '  O'  my  troth,  master,  that  he  has,' 
said  the  old  woman,  to  whom  Napoleon,  during  this 
short  dialogue,  had  approached  quite  close,  but  keep- 
ing his  back  to  the  door,  and  consequently  to  the  prin- 
cipal light.  Turning  now  suddenly  round,  the  light 
streamed  full  upon  his  countenance — the  good  dame 
started,  blessed  herself,  and  seemed  striving  to  collect 
her  reminiscences  of  the  past.  To  help  her  memory, 
Napoleon  rubbing  his  hands,  and  assuming  the  tones 
and  manners  of  his  youth,  called  out,  '  So.  ho !  dame 
Marguerite,  some  milk  and  fresh  eggs ;  we  are  all 
dying  of  hunger.'  The  old  woman,  not  quite  assured, 
began  to  examine  the  emperor  very  attentively.  *  Ah, 
dame  Marguerite,'  said  the  latter,  '  time  has  changed 
us  both ;  and  you  perceive  it  would  not  have  been  so 
easy  as  you  just  now  thought  to  recognize  the  Em- 


LiFi:  ov  Jos&pHnoE.  248 

peror ;  but  you  find  we  are  old  acquaintances/  The 
poor  creature  dropped  upon  her  knees — Napoleon 
raised  her  with  an  expression  of  the  utmost  kindness, 
saying,  *  Of  a  truth,  my  good  mother,  I  am  as  hungry 
as  a  student — have  you  nothing  to  give  me  ?'  Eggs 
and  milk  were  got  ready,  Napoleon  helping  himself,  for 
joy  had  almost  put  the  old  woman  beside  herself. 
Having  thus  made  a  hearty  repast,  the  Emperor  rose 
to  depart,  and  giving  his  ancient  hostess  a  purse  of 
gold,  said,  '  You  know,  dame  Marguerite,  I  like  every- 
body to  pay  their  score.  Adieu,  I  will  not  forget  you.' " 
Rejoining  the  Empress,  they  resumed  their  tour  to 
Lyons,  and  shared  the  sumptuous  hospitality  of  Cardi- 
nal Fesch.  It  was  decided  to  cross  the  Alps  by  Mont 
Cenis,  and  for  the  adventure  two  elegant  sedans  were 
forwarded  from  Turin.  There  was  no  grand  high- 
way, as  soon  afterward,  bridging  the  chasms,  and  the 
traveller,  like  the  wild  goat,  had  often  to  climb  the  per- 
ilous steep  in  a  path  untrodden  before.  Josephine 
avoided  the  beautiful  conveyance  ordered  expressly 
for  her,  and  preferred,  whenever  possible,  to  advance 
by  her  elastic  step,  to  walk  beside  Napoleon,  breathe 
the  bracing  air,  and  behold  with  kindling  eye  the  sea 
of  glittering  summits,  the  gorges  and  their  foaming  tor- 
rents, and  the  ice-fields  stretching  away  in  cold  and 
majestic  desolation.  That  passage  was  a  novel  and 
sublime  spectacle.  The  sovereign  of  an  empire,  with 
his  charming  queen,  toiUng  up  the  heights  over  which 
he  had  led  conquering  armies — his  thoughts  busy  with 

those  mighty  scenes — hers  wandering  over  the  waste 
16  K 


54i  UPE  OF  JosEPHnnc. 

of  wonders,  and  above  them  through  eternity,  of  which 
the  solemn  peaks  seemed  silent  yet  eloquent  witnesses 

From  Turin  the  tourists'  next  place  of  rendezvous 
was  Alessandria,  near  the  plain  of  Marengo ;  and  he 
could  not  resist  the  inducement  to  stand  once  more 
upon  that  field  which  had  rocked  to  one  of  the  world's 
decisive  battles,  and  sent  his  name  like  a  spell-word 
around  the  globe.  He  ordered  from  Paris  the  old  uni- 
form and  hat  which  he  had  worn  on  the  day  of  con- 
flict amid  the  smoke  of  the  terrible  struggle,  and  then, 
while  in  fancy  he  saw  again  the  meeting  battalions,  as 
when  he  wrung  from  the  outnumbering  foe  victories 
that  astonished  the  heroes  of  every  realm,  he  reviewed 
with  imperial  dignity  the  national  troops  in  Italy. 
Reaching  Milan,  the  ancient  crown  was  brought  from 
seclusion,  and  the  dust  in  which  it  had  been  entombed 
removed  from  the  neglected  symbol  of  royalty.  In  the 
grand  Cathedral  of  the  city,  the  second  in  magnificence 
to  St.  Peter's,  another  coronation  was  had,  Napoleon 
receiving  the  crown  from  the  archbishop's  hand,  and 
placing  it,  as  before,  upon  his  own  head. 

He  repeated,  during  the  ceremony,  in  Italian,  these 
words — "God  has  given  it — woe  to  the  gainsayer;" 
raising  the  iron  circlet  also  to  the  brow  of  Josephine. 
The  assemblage  of  nobility  and  beauty  dispersed ;  Na- 
poleon calmly  received  their  display  of  loyalty,  and  the 
gay  Milanese  again,  with  wonted  hilarity,  thronged  the 
market-place  and  busy  streets  of  the  capital.  Next 
came  the  public  formalities  of  appointing  Eugene  "Vice- 
roy of  the  new  kingdom.     The  occasion  was  brilliant 


PI^WT' 


IJFB  OF  JOSBPHUnCk  245 

and  imposing — especially  gratifying  to  his  noble  mother, 
who  was  a  deeply  interested  spectator  of  the  scene.  So 
the  succeeding  weeks,  like  those  after  the  festivities  at 
Paris,  were  crowded  with  demonstrations  of  gladness, 
that  made  the  whole  period  one  gala-day  of  rejoicing 
and  social  dissipation. 

There  is  a  charming  little  island  in  the  Olona,  to 
which  the  royal  pair  often  resorted  to  escape  the  ex- 
citement of  these  unceasing  pleasures ;  and  while  the 
confused  murmur  of  the  distant  city  died  away  in  the 
tranquillity-  of  nature,  would  sit  down  to  a  morning  re- 
past, and  then  stroll  over  the  green  esplanade,  whose 
border  was  laved  by  the  mirror  tide.  In  one  of  these 
promenades  they  encountered  a  poor  woman  who  had 
just  left  her  miserable  cabin,  and  gazed  with  surprise 
upon  the  strangers  Bonaparte  paused,  and  kindly  ad- 
dressed her : — 

"  How  do  you  live,  my  good  woman  ?  are  you  mar- 
ried ?  how  many  children  have  you  ?'  '  Sir,  I  am  very 
poor,  and  have  three  children,  whom  we  have  difficulty 
in  bringing  up,  for  my  husband,  who  is  a  day-laborer, 
has  not  always  work.'  '  Well,  how  much  would  make 
you  perfectly  happy  ?'  asked  Napoleon.  '  Ah !  sir,  a 
great  deal  of  money.'  'Well,  but  once  more,  how 
much  would  you  wish?'  'Oh,  sir,  at  least  twenty 
louis,  (about  16/.)  but  what  prospect  is  there  of  our 
having  twenty  louis?'  The  Emperor  ordered  3000 
francs  (125/.)  in  gold  to  be  given  her.  The  rouleaus 
being  opened,  and  the  contents  poured  into  her  lap,  at 
the  sight  of  such  a  quantity  of  gold,  the  poor  woman 


246  liFB  OF  JosEPnmB. 

nearly  fainted  away.  '  Ah !  sir,'  said  she,  *  ah !  madam, 
it  is  a  great  deal  too  much — and  yet  you  do  not  look 
as  if  you  could  sport  with  the  feelings  of  a  miserable 
woman.'  Josephine  reassured  her,  saying,  in  the  gen- 
tlest accents,  '  You  can  now  rent  a  piece  of  ground, 
purchase  a  flock  of  goats,  and  I  hope,  he  will  be  able 
to  bring  up  your  children  comfort  ably  .i" 

At  Milan  the  first  intimations  of  threatening  dissat- 
isfaction, on  the  part  of  Austria  and  Russia,  reached 
the  Emperor.  Although  he  continued  his  tour  through 
the  peninsula,  so  rich  in  picturesque  scenery  and  his- 
toric recollections — in  everything  that  awakens  thought 
and  kindles  the  imagination — his  mind  was  occupied' 
with  coming  events,  whose  foreshadowing  he  beheld 
in  the  blackening  horizon  of  the  north.  Arriving  at 
Genoa,  the  tidings  of  a  coalition  were  confirmed,  based 
in  part  at  least,  it  was  apparent,  upon  the  coronation 
in  Milan.  To  Josephine  th6  brief  stay  in  the  "  City 
of  palaces,"  was  more  attractive  than  any  transient 
residence  during  their  travel  had  been  The  citizens 
were  polite  and  attentive — the  air  delightful  as  the  sea- 
breeze  of  her  native  island — and  the  charming  bay,  made 
more  beautiful  by  floating  gardens  of  orange-trees  and 
flowers,  constructed  expressly  for  her  amusement.  It 
was  a  pause  in  their  hurried  progress,  which  refreshed 
Ler  languid  frame,  and  soothed  like  a  lovely  vision  her 
weary  heart.  The  departure  was  impetuous,  for  the 
eagle  eye  of  Napoleon  was  on  the  tokens  of  a  hasten- 
ing tempest,  and  he  caught  in  fancy  the  thunders  of 
its  terrible  shock.     The  imperial  carriage  glided  like  a 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINK.  247 

spirit  along  the  highway,  and  the  lash  fell  with  increas- 
ing rapidity  upon  the  foaming  steeds.  When  for  a 
moment  there  was  a  halt  to  change  the  horses,  water 
was  dashed  on  the  smoking  axle,  and  again  the  wheels 
revolved,  till  they  seemed  self-moving,  while  their  low 
hum  only  broke  the  silence,  except  the  occasional  shout 
of  Napoleon,  "  On !  On !  we  do  not  move !" 

Reaching  Paris,  he  remained  a  few  days,  and  then 
passed  on  with  the  same  lightning  speed  to  Boulogne, 
to  rally  his  forces  for  the  Rhenish  boundary,  and  the 
campaign  of  Austerlitz.  He  issued  orders  to  the  com- 
manders of  the  Army  of  Invasion,  to  be  ready,  upon 
the  first  hostile  movement  by  Austria,  to  advance 
against  her.  His  vast  arrangements  went  forward 
with  usual  precision  and  haste — the  army  went  wild 
with  enthusiasm  in  view  of  the  campaign ;  and  the 
marvellous  activity  of  their  leader  made  him  their  won- 
der and  their  idol.  Twenty  thousand  carriages  con 
veyed  the  battalions,  as  if  by  a  magical  flight,  from 
Boulogne  to  the  beautiful  Rhine,  upon  whose  green 
banks  a  hecatomb  of  youthful  soldiers,  who  had  impa- 
tiently waited  for  the  conflict,  were  trodden  in  gore 
beneath  the  iron  hoof.  Napoleon  returned  to  Paris  to 
complete  his  preparation  for  taking  command  of  the 
French  Army.  On  the  24th  of  September,  1805,  he 
left  the  capital  with  Josephine,  who,  attending  him  to 
Strasburg,  was  there  compelled  to  part  from  him.  and 
hasten  to  the  palace,  to  enter  upon  her  duties  as  regent 
of  the  empire  in  Bonaparte's  absence.  Cambaceres, 
archchancellor,  was  selected  to  be  her  adviser  and  aid, 


248  LIFE   OF   JOSEPHLNE. 

to  whom  she  addressed  a  letter,  which  discloses  her  in- 
tense solicitude,  her  clear  judgment,  and  sterling  sense, 
that,  in  connection  with  her  extreme  tenderness  and 
unaffected  modesty,  form  a  character  we  admire  with 
new  devotion  at  every  view,  like  the  artist's  affection 
for  a  faultless  form  some  master  has  chiselled. 


JOSEPHINE    TO    CAMBACERES. 

"  Sir, — To-morrow,  as  you  know,  in  absence  of  the 
Emperor,  I  am  to  give  audience  to  the  Senate  and  the 
different  authorities.  In  a  conjuncture  of  such  mo- 
ment, two  things  are  needful — to  inform  you  of  my  in- 
tentions, and  to  receive  your  advice.  In  this  my  ne- 
cessity, to  whom  can  I  more  properly  apply  than  to  the 
distinguished  personage  who  possesses  the  Emperor's 
entire  confidence,  and  whom  France  regards,  with 
reason,  as  his  worthy  representative ! 

"  The  various  addresses  have  been  communicated 
to  me,  and  I  send  you  an  outline  of  the  terms  in  which, 
I  conceive,  I  ought  to  reply. 

"  I  remind  the  Senate,  that  as  fathers  of  their  coun- 
try, and  conservators  of  her  institutions,  to  them  be- 
longs the  sole  duty  of  maintaining  a  balance  between 
the  different  powers  of  the  state,  not  permitting  them- 
selves to  encroach  upon  any  one.  To  the  legislative 
body,  I  say  that  their  functions  are  to  judge  and  to  pass 
laws,  particularly  those  relating  to  taxation,  without 
meddling  in  the  march  of  government,  which  such  in- 
terference would  impede.     I  call  to  the  remembrance 


UFB  07  JOBEFHIKE.  249 

of  the  council  of  state,  that  for  them  has  been  reserved 
the  important  duty  of  preparing,  by  previous  discussion, 
good  internal  laws,  and  a  durable  legislation.  To  the 
ministers  I  state,  that  they  form  neither  a  corporation 
nor  even  a  legislative  commission — neither  the  admin- 
istration nor  the  government ;  but  that,  under  the  title 
of  superior  agents  of  the  government,  and  first  com- 
missioners of  its  chief,  they  execute  and  cause  to  be 
executed,  orders  which  are  the  immediate  consequences 
of  legislative  determinations.  To  the  clergy  I  ex- 
plain, that  they  form  a  portion  of  the  state,  while  the 
state  never  is,  and  never  can  be  transferred  to  them  ; 
that  their  sole  and  exclusive  province  is  the  conscience, 
upon  which  they  are  to  act  so  as  to  form  citizens  to  the 
country,  soldiers  for  the  territory,  subjects  for  the  sove- 
reign, and  virtuous  fathers  of  families.  To  the  magis- 
tracy I  say,  that  applying  without  interpreting  the  laws, 
in  unity  of  views,  and  identity  of  jurisprudence,  they 
are  to  seize  with  sagacity  the  spirit  of  the  law,  recon- 
ciling the  happiness  of  the  governed  with  the  respect 
due  to  governors.  To  the  savans  I  acknowledge,  that 
the  gentle  empire  of  the  arts,  of  science,  and  literature 
tempers  whatever  might  be  too  austere  in  arms,  which 
yet,  in  a  season  of  transition  and  trial,  are  indispensable. 
The  manufacturers  and  merchants  are  reminded,  that 
they  should  have  but  two  thoughts,  which  at  bottom 
are  one  and  the  same,  the  prosperity  of  our  own  pro- 
ductions, and  the  ruin  of  those  of  England.  Finally,  to 
the  agriculturalists  it  is  stated,  that  the  treasures  of 
France  are  buried  in  the  soil,  and  that  by  the  plough- 


260  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHrtTK. 

share  and  the  spade  they  are  thence  to  be  extracted. 
To  the  heroes  of  either  service  I  have  nothing  to  say — 
this  palace  is  filled  with  their  exploits ;  and  from  under 
a  canopy  of  standards,  conquered  by  their  valor,  and 
consecrated  by  their  blood,  do  I  speak. 

"  Let  me  know  speedily,  and  with  perfect  frankness 
whether  I  am  worthy  thus  to  address  the  august  assem- 
bly of  my  hearers." 

Scarcely  had  Josephine  thus  shown  herself  equal  to 
her  responsible  station,  before  Napoleon  was  in  the 
midst  of  battle.  On  the  7th  of  October,  he  had  cross- 
ed the  Danube  in  face  of  the  enemy,  and  turned  the 
living  tide  of  men  from  his  triumphal  path — on  the  8th, 
Murat  fought  the  fierce  battle  of  Wertingen,  taking 
two  thousand  Austrian  prisoners ;  on  the  9th,  the  de- 
feated army  retreated  from  Guntzburg,  pursued  by  the 
victorious  French  to  the  gates  of  Augsburg  which  they 
entered,  and  proceeding  to  Munich,  it  was  also  in  their 
possession  on  the  12th.  On  the  14th,  occurred,  the 
battle  of  Memingem,  when  six  thousand  Austrians  sur- 
rendered to  Marshal  Soult,  and  Ney  wrung,  with  un- 
rivalled valor,  Elchingen  from  the  hand  of  the  enemy  i 
and  on  the  17th,  the  grand  consummation  in  the  capit- 
ulation of  Ulm,  crowed  the  ten  days'  work  with  glory, 
the  world  had  never  known  hitherto  in  the  annals  of 
conquest. 

This  was  followed  by  the  splendid  victory  of  Aus- 
terlitz,  on  the  anniversary  of  the  coronation,  which  de- 
cided the  struggle,  opening  to  the  French  the  gates  of 
the  Austrian  capital.     As  we  gave  the  summary  of 


UWE  OP  JOSEPHINE.  251  < 

Napoleon's  first  campaign,  inscribed  on  the  flag  he  sent 
to  the  Directory,  we  add  the  eloquent  and  artful  address 
he  made  to  the  army  after  they  had  va'nquished  the 
enemy,  containing  an  outline  of  what  he  had  accom- 
plished. 

"  Soldiers  of  the  Grand  Army, — In  fifteen  days 
we  have  finished  our  campaign.  What  we  proposed 
to  do  has  been  done.  We  have  chased  the  Austrian 
troops  from  Bavaria,  and  restored  our  ally  to  the  sove- 
reigron  of  his  dominions. 

"  Tliat  army,  which  with  so  much  presumption  and 
imprudence  marched  upon  our  frontiers,  is  annihilated. 

"But  what  does  this  signify  to  England  ?  She  has 
gained  her  object.  We  are  no  longer  at  Boulogne,  and 
her  subsidies  will  not  be  the  less  great. 

"  Of  a  hundred  thousand  men  who  composed  that 
army,  sixty  thousand  are  prisoners ;  but  they  will  sup- 
ply our  conscripts  in  the  labor  of  husbandry. 

"  Two  hundred  pieces  of  cannon,  ninety  flags,  and 
all  their  generals,  are  in  our  power.  Not  more  than 
fifteen  thousand  men  have  escaped. 

"  Soldiers !  I  aanounce  to  you  a  great  battle ;  but 
thanks  to  the  ill-devised  combinations  of  the  enemy,  1 
was  able  to  secure  the  desired  result  without  any  dan- 
ger ;  and,  what  is  unexampled  in  the  history  of  nations, 
these  results  have  been  gained  at  the  loss  of  scarcely 
filteen  hundred  men,  killed  and  wounded. 

"  Soldiers !  this  success  is  due  to  your  entire  confi- 
dence in  your  Emperor,  to  your  patience  in  supporting 


252  LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINB. 

fatigue  and  privations  of  every  kind,  and  to  your  re- 
markable intrepidity. 

"  But  we  will  not  stop  here.  You  are  impatient  to 
commence  a  second  campaign. 

"The  Russian  army,  which  the  gold  of  England 
has  brought  from  the  extremity  of  the  world,  we  have 
to  serve  in  the  same  manner. 

"  In  the  conflict  in  which  we  are  now  to  be  engaged, 
the  honor  of  the  French  infantry  is  especially  con- 
cerned. We  shall  then  see  decided,  for  the  second 
time,  that  question  which  has  already  been  decided  in 
Switzerland  and  Holland  ;  namely,  whether  the  French 
infantry  is  the  first  or  second  in  Europe  ? 

"  There  are  no  generals  amongst  them,  in  contend- 
ing against  whom  I  can  acquire  any  glory.  All  I  wish 
is  to  obtain  the  victory  with  the  least  possible  blood- 
shed.    My  soldiers  are  my  children." 

In  the  mean  time  all  was  suspense  at  St.  Cloud. 
December  was  vanishing,  and  no  news  reached  the 
Empress  from  the  army,  till  looks  only  betrayed  the 
increasing  alarm  none  ventured  longer  to  breathe  in 
words  of  fear.  One  evening  Josephine  was  sitting  in 
the  saloon  with  the  circle  who  usually  gathered  there, 
putting  on  a  witching  mockery  of  her  wonted  smile, 
while  in  every  heart  sad  forebodings  made  each  en- 
deavor to  awaken  mirth,  a  fruitless  struggle.  Stillness 
stole  upon  that  brilliant  circle,  and  a  gloomy  anticipa- 
tion of  disastrous  tidings  absorbed  all  other  feelinsr. 
Suddenly  there  arose  wild  shouts  of  gladness,  and  a 
gallant  Mameluke  dashed  into  the  court,  his  panting 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHUTE.  253 

Steed  falling  in  death  beneath  the  brave  rider.  The 
sound  of  bells  and  the  loud  crack  of  the  whip  had 
reached  the  ear  of  Josephine,  She  flew  to  the  win- 
dow to  hail  the  courier  from  the  Danube — "  Victory ! 
Austerlitz !"  passed  from  lip  to  lip  beneath  the  case- 
ment, while  tears  were  her  response  of  joy  that  could 
find  no  other  language. 

She  immediately  descended  to  the  vestibule,  at- 
tended by  her  ladies,  and  received  from  the  hand  of 
the  Mameluke,  who  came  from  the  field  of  victory,  a 
distance  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  in  twelve 
hours,  a  note  written  by  Napoleon  at  the  moment  his 
vahant  army  won  the  terrific  day,  and  the  triumphant 
shout  was  heard  along  the  advancing  lines.  In  the 
light  of  flambeaux  borne  by  the  attendants,  she  read 
the  brief  message  with  that  tide  of  emotion  which 
rushes  over  the  spirit  when  transport  succeeds  de- 
spair ;  then  taking  from  her  finger  a  diamond  ring  of 
great  value,  gave  it  to  the  chivalrous  courier.  The 
news  spread — the  people  were  frantic  with  enthusiasm, 
and  ready  in  their  loyalty  to  deify  the  conqueror,  as  in 
their  atheistical  frenzy  they  once  did  reason.  To  Jo- 
sephine the  results  were  grateful  as  a  loving  mother. 
Eugene  was  in  consequence  of  these  triumphs  to  marry 
the  Princess  of  Bavaria — the  first  royal  alliance  in  the 
family  of  the  Emperor.  Josephine  was  informed  that 
the  nuptials  would  occur  in  Munich  in  January,  (1806,) 
and  her  presence  was  required.  She  made  haste  to 
join  those  dearer  to  her  than  laurels  of  glory,  and  be- 
hold the  bride  of  the  Viceroy  of  Italy.     It  was  purely 


254-  IJtT^  OF  JOSEPHINK. 

a  political  marriage,  and  as  such  young  Beauharaais 
recoiled  from  the  paternal  decree.  But  he  found  in 
the  Princess  Augusta  all  he  could  desire  or  love,  and 
their  mutual  devotion  became  deep  and  enduring ;  a 
source  of  pleasure  to  Josephine,  through  a  life  of  sin- 
gular and  changeful  interest.  The  maternal  charac- 
ter of  this  remarkable  woman  is  most  attractive,  and 
always  above  reproach.  Without  the  discipline  of 
moral  cultivation  in  its  highest  form — surrounded  by 
society  hollow  in  principle  and  deceptive  in  action — 
flattered  and  honored,  she  was  still  an  affectionate, 
judicious,  and  faithful  naother.  Her  children  were 
indeed  "her  crown,"  and  she  was  happy  in  their 
prosperity,  when  every  other  joy  was  crushed. 

Napoleon  returned  from  Germany,  and  in  his  train 
followed  a  swarm  of  German  princes  to  the  court  of 
France.  F6tes  and  parties  were  the  order  of  the  day ; 
the  slain  were  forgotten,  except  in  homes  left  des- 
olate, and  the  name  of  Napoleon  was  the  theme  of 
eulogy  in  the  market  and  mansion — ^by  the  noble  who 
anticipated  honor,  and  the  peasant  who  toiled  only  for 
his  bread.  Among  the  royal  guests  was  the  Prince  of 
Baden,  the  intended  husband  of  Stephanie  de  Beau- 
harnais,  who  had  been  made  princess  but  recently, 
and  was  a  niece  of  Josephine.  A  communication  ad- 
dressed to  an  old  friend,  in  reference  to  the  affair,  il- 
lustrates the  pure  and  elevated  sentiments  that  were 
cherished  in  all  the  relations  of  life : — 


LIFB  OF  JOSBPHmX.  255 


JOSEPHINE    TO    THE    COMTESSE    GIRARDIN. 

"My  DEAR  Friend, — I  send  you  a  set  of  jewels, 
which  will  serve  to  prove  that  I  do  not  cease  to  think 
of  you.  The  moment  Foncier  (jeweller  to  the  Em- 
press) brought  them,  the  charming  appearance  they 
would  have  on  your  beautiful  neck  occurred  to  me, 
and  I  eagerly  made  the  purchase.  Accept,  then,  this 
pledge  of  an  attachment  which  you  cannot  doubt,  on 
recalling  your  own  affection  for  me  when  I  was  utterly 
destitute,  but  of  which,  from  that  very  circumstance, 
it  will  be  pleasing  to  receive  a  new  remembrance. 

"  I  am  truly  satisfied  with  the  rank  which  I  occupy, 
only  when  it  procures  me  the  pleasure  of  obtaining 
some  favor  for  my  friends  of  old.  Your  situation,  for- 
tunately, deprives  me  of  the  happiness  of  being  able  to 
serve  you,  since  all  your  wishes  are  fulfilled.  I  cannot 
console  myself  for  my  want  of  power  to  be  serviceable, 
save  by  often  seeking  occasions  of  being  at  least  agree- 
able.    These  my  heart  will  instruct  me  how  to  divine. 

"  My  charming  Stephanie,  now  adopted  by  the  Em- 
peror, is  very  soon  to  espouse  a  German  prince.  His 
name  must  be  still  a  mystery :  so  soon  as  I  have  per- 
mission to  communicate  it,  you  shall  be  the  first  to 
learn  the  secret.  You  know  my  tenderness  for  my 
niece,  and  can  therefore  conceive  the  happiness  which 
I  experience  in  venturing  to  anticipate  hers.  Her 
character,  little  disposed  to  ambition,  makes  her  re- 
gard this  match  with  a  degree  of  pain,  because  it  re- 


2M  LIFB  OP  JOSEPHmB. 

moves  her  from  me  and  her  family ;  yet  a  while,  and 
she  will  forget  everything  in  the  truest  of  all  the  joys 
of  this  world,  that  of  seeing  the  happiness  of  others 
depending  upon  her.  You  will  remember,  my  dear, 
we  found  means  of  tasting  such  enjoyment  even  in 
prison,  by  sharing  with  the  wretched  captives  what 
we  received  from  our  friends !  There  wants,  indeed, 
only  the  will  to  oblige ;  the  means  are  always  in  our 
power ;  and  Stephanie  especially  is  worthy  of  often 
meeting  with  the  opportunity. 

"  Meantime  we  are  very  busy  with  all  those  futilities 
necessary  to  an  intended.  I  am  delighted  with  every- 
thing the  emperor  does  for  my  favorite.  She  is,  I 
know,  less  overjoyed  than  I,  from  the  causes  already 
mentioned,  and  finds  only  one  consolation,  in  being 
able,  on  quitting  France,  to  take  with  her  some  early 
friends,  a  privilege  which  is  to  be  granted.  If,  then, 
your  protegee  desires  an  agreeable  situation,  I  believe 
I  can  procure  one  near  Stephanie's  person,  which  will 
be  preferable  to  one  in  my  service. 

"  I  must  leave  you,  dear  friend,  for  Forcier.  There 
are  duties  to  which  we  must  sacrifice  even  friendship. 
You  will  therefore  pardon  my  breaking  off  abruptly  for 
a  purpose  of  this  importance.  For  your  sake  I  have 
vanquished  my  sloth,  not  wishing  to  employ  the  pen  of 
my  good  Deschamps  (private  secretary.)  Between 
friends  such  as  we  two,  a  third  party  is  to  me  always  a 
restraint.  Are  you  not  of  the  same  opinion  ?  Adieu, 
my  friend.  Empress  or  in  prison,  be  assured  no  one 
loves  you  as  does  Josephine.' 


#  LIFE  OF  JOBEPHIEraS.  257 

While  these  festive  scenes  were  passing,  and  the 
Parisians  holding  jubilee,  Napoleon  was  not  idle — un- 
like Hannibal,  he  never  paused  for  voluptuous  ease 
upon  a  height  of  glory,  nor  for  an  instant  relaxed  his 
vigilance  and  untiring  activity.  Having  created  King- 
doms and  appointed  Kings,  over  the  wide  region  of 
conquest,  he  determined  to  environ  his  throne  with  a 
new  line  of  Princes,  and  bestow  principalities  upon  the 
members  of  his  own  household.  Murat  became  Grand 
Duke  of  Cleves  and  Berg — Cambaceres  Duke  of 
Parma — his  sister  Pauline,  who  had  married  Prince 
Borghese,  was  created  Duchess  of  Guastalla;  Louis 
and  Hortense  held  the  throne  of  Holland.  Josephine 
rejoiced  with  trembling  at  this  rapid  approximation 
towards  the  fruition  of  her  most  radiant  hopes — the 
fulfilment  of  dreams  more  gorgeous  than  ever  haunted 
the  brain  of  the  Abyssinian  Prince  in  his  garden  of 
manifold  delights.  In  her  society,  gathering  about  him 
and  concentrating  all  the  elements  of  permanent  power, 
and  carrying  on  negotiations  for  peace  with  surround- 
ing powers,  Napoleon  occupied  the  spring  and  summer 
of  1806.  Prussia  was  resolved  on  war,  and  the  ultima- 
tum of  her  Cabinet,  amounting  to  a  haughty  challenge, 
was  applying  the  torch  to  the  magazine  of  restless 
Europe.  Bonaparte  was  enraged,  and  in  September 
was  again  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  The  following 
month  France  and  Prussia  were  in  the  field,  and  on  the 
14th  were  fought  the  great  battles  of  Austerdadt  and 
Jena.  These  were  followed  by  a  series  of  victories 
Bcarccly  less  marvellous  and  splendid  than  those  of  a 


258.  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHma  # 

preceding  year,  till  over  annihilated  armies  of  the 
world's  noblest  soldiers,  Napoleon  marched  like  the 
very  angel  of  death  to  the  foe.  It  was  during  this 
campaign  that  he  performed  the  generous  deed  of 
pardoning  Prince  Hatzfield,  whose  intercepted  letters 
from  Berlin  proved  him  to  be  a  spy;  an  act  that 
touched  deeply  the  heart  of  Josephine,  and  endeared 
the  man  she  loved  with  an  idolatry  death  alone  could 
destroy.  The  court-martial  had  assembled  to  try  the 
Prince,  and  evidently  the  formalities  of  examination, 
sentence,  and  execution  would  succeed  each  other 
without  hesitation.  Through  the  influence  of  Duroc 
at  this  juncture.  Madam  Hatzfield  was  introduced  into 
the  apartment  of  the  Emperor.  The  interview  is 
given  in  Napoleon's  own  language,  quoted  from  a  letter 
to  the  Empress,  in  which  she  alludes  to  something  he 
had  written  unfavorable  to  her  sex. 

"  I  have  received  your  letter,  in  which  it  seems  you 
reproach  me  for  speaking  ill  of  woman.  True  it  is 
that,  above  all  things,  I  dislike  female  intriguers.  1 
have  been  used  to  kind,  gentle  and  conciliatory  women. 
Them  I  love,  and  if  they  have  spoiled  me,  it  is  not  my 
fault,  but  yours.  However,  you  will  see  that  I  have 
acted  indulgently  towards  one  sensible  and  deserving 
woman.  I  allude  to  Madam  Hatzfield.  When  1 
showed  her  her  husband's  letter,  she  burst  into  tears, 
and  in  a  tone  of  the  most  exquisite  grief  and  candor, 
exclaimed,  'It  is  indeed  his  writing!'  This  was  too 
much,  it  went  to  my  heart,  and  I  said,  '  Well,  Madam, 
throw  the  letter  into  the  fire,  and  then  I  shall  have  no 


LIFB  OF  JOSEPHHrB.  tM 

proof  against  your  husband.'  She  burned  the  letter, 
and  was  restored  to  happiness.  Her  husband  is  now 
safe ;  two  hours  later,  and  he  would  have  been  lost 
You  see,  therefore,  that  I  like  women  who  are  feminine 
simple  and  amiable,  for  they  alone  resemble  you 
November  6th,  1806,  9  o'clock,  p.  m." 

A  glimpse  of  the  interior  of  St.  Cloud  while  these 
years  of  alternate  conflict  and  peace  were  vanishing 
and  Josephine  living  amid  the  enthusiastic  homage  of 
the  nation,  unstained  and  undazzled  by  greatness,  will 
possess  an  interest  diflTerent  in  kind,  from  the  general 
surface-view,  but  pleasing,  because  it  affords  a  closer 
observation  of  character,  which  is  the  only  test  of  one's 
real  condition.  The  Emperor,  as  mentioned  before, 
had  separate  apartments  in  the  palace,  occasionally 
passing  the  night  with  Josephine,  when  much  of  the 
time  was  spent  in  conversation.  The  order  given  his 
attendant  was,  to  enter  the  apartment  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  morning  ;  of  which  service,  the  faithful  Constant 
has  made  his  own  simple  report : — 

"  The  Emperor  commonly  asked  for  tea  or  an  infu- 
sion of  orange  flowers,  and  rose  immediately  after 
The  Empress  would  say  with  a  smile,  '  Will  you  rise 
so  soon  ? — Remain  a  little  longer.'  '  Well,  if  I  dO;  you 
will  not  sleep,  will  you  ?'  was  his  majesty's  usual  reply ; 
then  he  would  roll  her  up  in  the  coverlet,  laughing, 
and  tickling  her  on  the  cheeks  and  neck.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  minutes  the  Empress  rose  also,  and 
putting  on  a  loose  robe  du  matin,  either  read  the  jour- 
nal while  the  Emperor  dressed,  or  retired  by  a  private 
17 


Mf  KI7B  OF  JOSEPHmS. 

access  to  her  own  apartments,  but  never  without 
addressing  some  kind  and  condescending  words  to 
myself." 

Josephine's  hour  of  rising  was  nine  o'clock,  and  af- 
ter devoting  an  hour  to  the  toilet,  entered  the  recep- 
tion-room of  petitioners,  for  her  interposition,  or  the 
royal  favor.  With  all  the  annoyances  attending  this 
ceremony,  it  was  to  her  second  to  none  in  interest ;  for 
her  sympathies  must  have  an  object,  or  she  was  un- 
happy. If  she  erred  in  judgment,  when  bestowing 
influence  or  money  upon  those  who  presented  their 
claims,  it  was  the  mistake  of  a  feeling,  generous 
spirit — surrounded  by  intriguing  courtiers,  and  often 
wholly  dependent  upon  the  applicant's  honesty  for  a 
truthful  narrative,  she  may  have  scattered  too  lav- 
ishingly  her  wealth,  and  aided  a  villain  now  and  then, 
but  she  had  the  secret  consciousness  of  oftener  doing 
good  to  the  unfortunate,  and  won  admiration  by  a 
fault  of  which  only  a  magnanimous  njind  could  have 
been  guilty.  Among  the  various  notes  addressed  to 
men  of  rank  in  behalf  of  others,  a  laconic  and  ex- 
pressive one  in  reference  to  a  worthy  youth,  sent  to 
Fouche,  is  quoted  : — 

"  My  Lokd  Duke, — I  will  that  the  young  Dutetre 
be  placed  in  some  way  or  other,  while  I  am  Empress ; 
you  would  very  speedily  forget  him  should  I  cease  to 
reign.     I  salute  you." 

Josephine  was  eminently  a  philanthropist — never 
forgetting  the  common  nature  and  wants  of  our  race ; 
the  insignificance   of  distinctions    wholly  factitious, 


LIPB  OF  JOSEPHUTB.  261 

which  she  had  learned  might  rise  or  disappear  at  the 
touch  of  fortune ;  nor  was  she  unmindful  of  the  level- 
ling stroke  of  death  that  hurries  all  to  a  tribunal  of 
final  adjudication. 

After  these  morning  duties  were  discharged,  came 
the  houx.of  breakfast,  which  was  eleven  o'clock.  Na- 
poleon ate  with  haste,  as  though  time  at  the  table  was 
so  much  wasted — and  eating  a  necessary  evil.  He 
seldom  gave  more  than  seven  or  eight  minutes  to  a 
meal,  sipping  for  the  finale  a  cup  of  coffee.  He  fre- 
quently ate  alone,  especially  when  urgent  business  de- 
manded protracted  attention.  In  his  absence,  Jose- 
phine had  a  social  repast  like  those  enjoyed  during  the 
Consulate.  With  the  ladies  of  the  Court,  she  would 
sit  down  with  her  beaming  face  and  musical  voice,  and 
make  the  occasion  a  cheerful  interlude  to  the  stately 
routine  of  business,  and  more  exciting  pleasures. 
After  a  little  recreation,  or  a  walk,  she  retired  to  her 
own  apartments,  and  till  late  in  the  afternoon,  was  en- 
gaged with  her  circle,  conversing  familiarly,  or  read- 
ing, except  when  devoted  to  her  favorite  work,  em- 
broidery, in  which  she  excelled ;  leaving  in  the  palaces 
she  occupied  upon  their  costly  furniture  her  handi- 
work for  the  admiration  and  reproof  of  those  women 
of  rank,  who  curl  the  lip  with  affected  dignity  and  con- 
tempt at  the  vulgar  necessity  of  labor.  Josephine  was 
everywhere  a  model — the  same  symmetrical  character 
in  prison  or  in  the  temple  of  coronation — strolling 
carelessly  upon  the  lawn  of  Malmaison,  or  through  tho 
saloons  of  St.  Cloud — listening  to  the  acclamations  of 


263  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHI^nE. 

the  million,  or  to  the  story  of  affliction  in  a  peasant's 
hovel. 

Her  industry  and  her  gentleness  are  developed  at- 
tractively in  a  common  note  of  direction  to  her  Femr 
me-de-chamhre. 

"  My  Dear  Miss  Aubekt — ^I  beg  you  will  call  in  at 
Bennais's  in  returning,  and  inquire  whether  the  frames 
which  I  ordered  of  him  are  ready  ;  my  ladies  remain 
with  folded  arms,  and  I  myself  have  nothing  at  all  to 
do.  At  the  same  time  take  in  your  way  the  Pere  de 
FamiUe^  and  purchase  on  my  account  a  complete  as- 
sortment of  worsteds,  with  some  dozens  of  English 
needles.  Here  is  a  lot  of  commissions  for  you  all  at 
once ;  not  to  forget  them,  think  of  me.  I  am  quite 
sure  you  will  acquit  yourself  well,  and  return  quickly." 

Josephine's  intellectual  cultivation  and  literary  taste 
were,  as  already  intimated,  of  a  high  order.  Though 
her  imagination  was  strong  and  soaring,  which,  with 
an  exceedingly  sensitive  temperament,  made  her  liable 
to  the  sentimentality  and  dreaming  that  form  the  ro- 
mantic character;  she  perused  works  of  the  most 
practical  kind,  and  became  familiar  with  the  imperish- 
able records  of  genius  in  every  department  of  reading 
Her  private  court  was  indeed  a  literary  association — 
the  members  alternately  appointed  to  read  aloud, 
pausing  occasionally  for  comment  or  discussion  upon 
interesting  or  difficult  passages  of  the  author.  But  a 
few  of  the  poisonous  ephemera,  novels,  were  allowed 
in  the  royal  library,  and  only  those  of  moral  tone  and 
purest  style.    iN^apoleon  himself  was  sternly  opposed 


UFB   OF  J06EPHINX.  263 

L  the  worthless  and  exciting  fiction,  which  has  of  late 
increased  so  rapidly  in  all  countries.  If  he  chanced  in 
his  walk  through  the  palace  to  find  a  book  of  this  sort 
in  the  hands  of  an  attendant  or  lying  on  a  table,  he 
consigned  it  without  mercy  to  the  flames,  and  gave 
the  offender  a  lecture  upon  his  prodigality  of  time,  and 
vicious  indulgence.  When  he  was  in  good  spirits,  he 
would  often  interrupt  the  entertainment  of  the  fair 
group  in  their  morning  sociable,  by  joining  the  party, 
and  with  pleasant  raillery  and  flashes  of  wit,  enhance 
their  pleasures ;  especially  that  of  Josephine,  who  was 
always  delighted  when  by  the  side  of  Napoleon.  And 
when  he  desired  her  presence  in  the  cabinet  on  any 
private  affair,  a  gentle  tap  at  her  door  was  the  signal, 
which  introduced  her  joyfully  to  his  room.  Sometimes 
an  interview  was  protracted  in  the  evening,  till  the 
"  noon  of  night,"  and  on  her  return  she  would  find  a 
silent  company  of  "  sleeping  beauties." 

She  rode  out  in  the  afternoon  usually  unaccom- 
panied by  the  Emperor,  stopping  whenever  an  appeal 
to  benevolence  met  her  eye,  and  never  permitting  the 
meanest  animal  to  suffer  if  her  interposition  could  pre- 
vent it.  Her  taste  in  matters  of  dress  was  refined, 
and  generally  pleasing  to  Bonaparte.  It  was  his  cus- 
tom, when  making  her  evening  toilet  to  be  present 
both  to  while  away  a  leisure  hour  and  act  as  umpire  in 
regard  to  the  apparel  most  becoming.  In  his  charac- 
teristic impulsiveness  and  impatience,  he  would  scat 
ter  the  contents  of  boxes,  throw  into  confusion  the  en- 
tire wardrobe,  and  handle  jewelry  as  if  they  were  peb. 


2&4  LIPB  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

Lies,  until  the  women  were  monuments  of  amazement, 
and  Josephine  archly  smiling  on  the  wreck  of  robes, 
ribbons  and  diamonds.  He  never  failed  to  exhibit  his 
displeasure  when  she  appeared  in  a  dress  he  happened 
not  to  fancy ;  and  on  one  occasion  it  is  said,  when  she 
entered  his  cabinet  in  a  robe  of  blue  and  silver  tissue, 
he  threw  an  inkstand  upon  the  beautiful  costume,  and 
the  Empress  retired  to  cast  aside  the  ruined  attire,  for 
another  trial  to  suit  her  lord's  capricious  taste.  In 
trifles  like  this  Josephine's  tranquillity  was  scarcely 
ruffled,  but  when  her  fidelity  was  doubted,  or  her  love 
unretumed,  she  drooped  like  a  smitten  flower,  and  her 
bosom  was  torn  with  a  tempest  of  sorrow.  The  de- 
scription of  the  formalities  at  dinner,  and  Bonaparte's 
habits  and  illness  is  added  from  the  pen  of  another. 

"  At  six  o'clock  dinner  was  served  ;  but,  unless  on 
very  particular  occasions.  Napoleon  forgot,  and  delay- 
ed it  indefinitely.  Hence,  in  the  annals  of  the  impe- 
rial table,  dinners  at  nine,  and  even  at  ten  o'clock,  are 
not  unfrequent.  Their  majesties  always  dined  together 
— alone,  or  with  a  few  invited  guests,  members  of  the 
imperial  family  or  of  the  ministry.  Invitations  were 
delivered  by  the  grand  master  of  the  ceremonies,  who 
informed  the  grand  marshal  of  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments, and  in  what  manner  the  guests  should  sit ;  the 
grand  marshal,  again,  received  his  orders  directly  from 
the  Sovereign.  When  their  majesties  dined  en  grand 
convert,  their  tables  were  placed  under  a  canopy  on  a 
platform,  elevated  one  step,  and  with  two  arm-chairs, 
one  on  the  right  for  the  Emperor,  the  other  on  the  left 


LIFE   OF   JOSEPHINE.  265 

ior  Josephine,  the  former  wearing  a  hat  with  plumes, 
and  his  consort  a  diadem.  Their  majesties  were  in- 
formed by  the  grand  marshal  when  the  preparations 
were  completed,  and  entered  the  room  in  the  following 
order: — Pages,  assistant  master  of  the  ceremonies, 
prefects  of  the  palace,  first  prefect  and  a  master  of  the 
ceremonies,  the  grand  marshal  and  grand  master  of  the 
ceremonies ;  the  Empress,  attended  by  her  first  equerry 
and  first  chamberlain ;  the  Emperor,  colonel-general 
of  the  guard,  grand  chamberlain  and  grand  equerry ;  the 
grand  almoner,  who  blessed  the  meat,  and  retired,  leav- 
ing their  majesties  to  a  solitary  board,  unless  when 
guests  of  kingly  rank  were  present,  or  humbler  ones  sat 
down  there  by  invitation.  The  pages  performed  the 
most  subordinate,  and  the  stewards  the  menial  part  of 
the  service  at  the  imperial  table  ;  but  the  immediate 
wants  of  their  majesties  were  ministered  to  by  the 
grand  marshal  (Duroc,  Duke  de  Friuli,)  first  chamber- 
lain (Comte  de  Beaumont,)  the  first  equerry  (Comte  de 
Harville,)  and  the  chamberlains  (all  noblemen)  in  turn. 
The  other  tables  were  served  by  the  stewards  and  at- 
tendants in  livery.  But  when  the  repast  was  in  pri- 
vate, it  took  place  in  a  small  interior  dining-room,  with- 
out any  etiquette,  generally  some  of  the  members  of 
the  court,  and  especially  the  grand  marshal,  sitting 
down  with  their  majesties.  On  these  occasions,  much 
more  frequent  than  the  dinners  of  ceremony,  favorite 
attendants,  named  by  Napoleon,  waited  at  table. 

"Napoleon   always    ate    hastily,  rarely   remaining 
above  ten  minutes  at  table :  so  that  those  who  knew 


2M  UFE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

him  well  took  care  to  be  prepared  beforehand.  The 
Viceroy  claims  the  merit  of  this  invention.  '  Nay, 
Eugene,  you  have  not  had  time  to  dine,'  said  Napoleon, 
seeing  him  rise  from  table  with  himself.  '  Pardon  me,' 
replied  the  prince,  '  I  dined  in  advance.'  '  A  pru- 
dent foresight,'  said  the  Emperor,  laughing.  On  Na- 
poleon rising  in  this  hurried  manner,  Josephine  made  a 
sign  to  those  who  dined  with  them  to  remain,  but  fol- 
lowed herself  into  a  small  saloon.  Here  a  page  brought 
the  ingredients  in  utensils  of  silver  gilt,  upon  a  gold 
tray  ;  and  the  Empress  poured  out  and  sugared  a  small 
cup  of  coffee,  tasted,  by  sipping  a  few  drops,  then  pre- 
sented it  to  the  Emperor.  These  precautions  she  took 
because  at  first,  in  his  moments  of  absence,  he  some- 
times drank  it  cold,  or  without  or  with  too  much  sugar, 
and  sometimes  two  cups  in  succession  ;  any  of  whicli 
irregularities  made  him  ill,  and  hence,  probably,  the 
stories  of  his  immoderate  use  of  this  beverage.  This 
custom  of  eating  so  precipitately  both  induced  sloven- 
ly habits  and  frequently  caused  sickness.  Napoleon 
not  only  dispensed  with  the  use  of  his  knife  and  fork 
as  respected  his  own  plate,  but  also  helped  himself  with 
his  fingers  from  the  dishes  nearest  him,  and  dipped  his 
bread  in  the  sauce.  In  the  attacks  of  indigestion, 
which  were  often  very  severe,  and  attended  with 
vomiting,  nothing  could  exceed  the  anxious  tenderness 
of  Josephine  ;  for  Napoleon  supported  the  sickness  with 
scarcely  a  degree  of  composure. 

"On  the  first  symptoms  of  the  malady,  he  flung  him- 
self at  full  length  on  the  carpet  of  his  bed-room,  and 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINI!.  267 

Josephine  was  instantly  by  his  side.  She  rested  his 
head  on  her  knees,  stroking  his  temples,  and  applying 
frictions  of  eau  de  Cologne  to  his  breast,  consoling  and 
encouraging  him  in  the  best  way  she  could.  A  few 
cups  of  tea  seldom  failed  to  remove  the  acute  pain ; 
but  he  remained  for  a  length  of  time  feeble  and  ex- 
hausted, ^hen  Josephine,  in  her  most  touching  accents, 
would  say,  '  Now  you  are  better,  will  you  lie  down  a 
little  ?  I  will  remain  with  Constant  by  your  bedside.' 
These  attacks  and  the  manner  of  treatment  have  prob- 
ably given  rise  to  the  idea  that  Napoleon  was  subject 
to  epileptic  fits.  One  of  the  longest  and  most  severe 
indispositions  of  this  kind  occurred  during  the  excur- 
sion to  Mayence,  and  in  the  night.  Josephine,  in  per- 
fect darkness,  for  the  chamber  light  had  been  extin- 
guished, and  not  wishing  to  awake  any  one,  assured 
that  nobody  but  herself  would  be  tolerated  in  the  apart- 
ment, threw  some  part  of  her  dress  about  her,  and 
groped  her  way  to  the  chamber  of  the  aid-de-camp  on 
duty,  from  whom,  astonished  as  he  felt  at  such  a  visit, 
she  obtained  a  light,  and  continued  alone  to  watch  over 
and  apply  remedies  to  her  husband.  Next  day  both 
appeared  languid  and  fatigued.  How  selfish  and  un- 
grateful a  being  must  Napoleon  have  been,  when  on 
the  very  same  excursion,  he,  with  his  own  hand,  almost 
dragged  Josephine  from  bed  to  attend  a  ball,  while 
suflering  under  one  of  those  nervous  headaches  which 
frequently  caused  her  absolute  torture.  The  first  lady 
of  honor.  Madam   de  Rochefoucauld,  witnessed   this 

barbarity,  which  she  mentioned  with  tears.     Josephine 

L 


268  IJFS  OF  JOSEPKDfE. 

appeared  at  the  ball  and  reception  with  her  usual  kind- 
ness and  grace,  remained  the  requisite  time,  but  almost 
fainted  on  returning  to  her  apartments,  yet  without 
uttering  a  single  murmur  of  complaint." 

The  sadness  of  this  last  picture  is  relieved  by  an- 
other drawn  from  life  at  St.  Cloud.  When  intervals 
of  repose  from  the  cares  of  the  empire  occurred,  Napo- 
leon accompanied  by  Josephine  made  short  excursions 
into  the  country ;  visiting  Rambouillet  and  Fontaine- 
bleau,  favorite  places  of  resort  to  him,  and  memorable 
for  many  events  of  interest  in  his  remarkable  history 
These  rides  into  the  beautiful  region  adjacent  to  the 
palace,  were  crowded  with  enjoyment  to  the  heart  of 
the  Empress,  who  from  the  days  of  girlish  glee  on  the 
green  slopes  of  Martinique,  had  loved  the  sublimity, 
the  music,  and  freedom  of  nature.  The  chase  was  at 
such  times  an  amusement  inseparable  from  nobility 
and  Bonaparte  engaged  in  the  exercise  rather  on  that 
account  than  because  it  was  a  source  of  pleasure.  But 
perhaps,  Josephine  never  appeared  more  queenly  than 
upon  this  adventure.  With  her  attendants,  she  rode  in 
an  open  caleche,  her  elegant  riding  habit  falling  in  folds 
at  her  feet,  a  round  hat  crowning  her  head,  and  the 
white  feathers  dancing  in  the  morning  air;  while  a 
glow  of  excitement  gave  to  her  superb  countenance,  a 
fine  and  luminous  expression  Bonaparte  admired  ex- 
ceedingly. The  picnic  which  followed,  was  had  be- 
neath the  shade  of  forest  trees,  the  oratorio  of  birds, 
and  sallies  of  mirth  completing  the  accompaniments  of 
the  nomadic  repast.     After  a  hot  pursuit,  a  panting 


LIFE  OF  /OSEPHDirB.  269 

Stag,  with  antlers  thrown  back,  and  pleading  look, 
sought  refuge  beneath  the  carriage  of  the  Empress. 
She  interceded  for  the  trembling  fugitive,  and  his  life 
was  spared,  with  the  ornament  of  a  silver  collar  attach- 
ed to  his  neck,  as  the  signet-ring  of  her  protection  for 
the  future.  The  wild  protege  bounded  over  the  slopes 
and  lay  down  in  the  glades,  unharmed  till  his  illustrious 
preserver  was  no  longer  able  to  save  him  from  the 
hunter's  aim,  but  needed  herself  sympathy  in  the  slow 
murder  of  her  heart  and  frame. 

Josephine's  correspondence,  which  filled  up  moments 
of  leisure,  was  elevating  in  sentiment,  and  marked  by 
that  vivacity  peculiar  to  her  active  mind.  At  the  pe- 
riod which  has  been  embraced  in  the  sketch  of  domes- 
tic scenes,  she  used  her  influence  to  make  reconcilia- 
tion among  the  members  of  her  husband's  family,  who, 
in  taking  possession  of  thrones  and  emoluments,  often 
came  in  collision;  returning,  in  all  her  intercourse, 
kindness  for  the  enmity  she  received  as  constantly 
from  them.  Madam  Murat  was  an  ambitious  and 
rather  imperious  woman,  inclined  to  usurp  authority  by 
virtue  of  her  relationship  to  Napoleon.  A  letter  from 
the  Empress  on  the  subject,  delineates  the  character 
of  both  the  distinguished  ladies. 

"  You  are  not,  my  sister,  an  ordinary  woman ;  and 
therefore  I  write  to  you  after  a  fashion  very  diflferent 
from  that  which  I  would  employ  with  a  common-place 
character.  I  tell  you  frankly,  and  without  reserve, 
that  I  am  dissatisfied  with  you.  How  you  actually 
torture  the  poor  Murat!   you  make  him  shed  tears! 


2^0  LIFB  OF  JOSBPHUnB. 

With  so  many  means  of  pleasing,  why  do  you  ever 
prefer  to  command?  Your  husband  obeys  through 
fear,  when  he  ought  to  yield  to  persuasion  alone.  By 
thus  usurping  a  part  which  does  not  belong  to  us,  you 
convert  a  brave  man  into  a  timid  slave,  and  yourself 
into  an  exacting  tyrant.  This  brings  shame  to  him, 
and  cannot  be  an  honor  to  you.  Our  glory — the  glory 
of  woman — lies  in  submission ;  and  if  it  be  permitted 
us  to  reign,  our  empire  rests  on  gentleness  and  good- 
ness. Your  husband,  already  so  great  in  the  opinion 
of  the  world,  through  his  valor  and  exploits,  feels  as  if 
he  beheld  all  his  laurels  brought  to  the  dust  on  appear- 
ing in  your  presence.  You  take  a  pride  in  humbling 
them  before  your  pretensions ;  and  the  title  of  being 
the  sister  of  a  hero  is,  with  you,  reason  for  believing 
yourself  a  heroine.  Believe  me,  my  sister,  that  char- 
acter, with  the  qualities  which  it  supposes,  becomes  us 
not.  Let  us  joy  modestly  in  the  glory  of  our  spouses, 
and  place  ours  in  softening  their  manners,  and  leading 
the  world  to  pardon  their  deeds.  Let  us  merit  this 
praise,  that  the  nation,  while  it  applauds  the  bravery 
of  our  husbands,  may  also  commend  the  gentleness 
bestowed  by  Providence  on  their  wives  to  temper  thai 
bravery." 

She  also  wrote  to  the  Emperor's  mother,  to  secure, 
if  possible,  her  aid  in  healing  the  discords  rife  in  the 
ascendant  dynasty,  and  restore  the  harmony  which 
vanished  with  the  spreading  glory  of  him,  to  whose 
affection  alone  his  relatives  owed  their  rank.  Had  it 
not  been  for  natural  ties,  Bonaparte,  in  his  contempt 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHIKB.  271 

of  their  quarrels,  would  have  swept  them  from  his 
path,  and  gone  to  the  common  mass  for  successors  to 
their  honors.  The  communication  mentioned  was  as 
follows : — 

"  Madam  and  most  honored  Mother, — Employ  the 
ascendency  which  your  experience,  dignity,  virtues, 
and  the  love  of  the  Emperor  give,  in  order  to  restore 
to  his  family  that  internal  peace  now  banished  from  it. 
I  fear  to  intrude  in  these  domestic  dissensions,  from 
the  apprehension  lest  calumny  should  accuse  me  of  in- 
flaming them  by  such  interference.  It  belongs  to  you, 
madam,  to  bring  back  calm ;  and  for  this  purpose,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  say  that  you  are  informed  of  these 
discords.  Your  prudence  will  have  commenced  the 
work  by  pointing  out  the  evil,  and  will  speedily  dis- 
cover the  remedy.  I  name  no  person,  but  your  saga- 
city will  divine  all  concerned.  You  are  not  a  stranger 
to  human  passion;  and  vice,  which  has  never  ap- 
proached you,  will  discover  itself  in  those  who  are 
dear  to  you,  through  the  very  interest  which  you  take 
in  their  welfare.  You  will  not  be  long  in  remarking' 
the  progress  of  ambition,  perhaps  that  of  cupidity,  in 
more  than  one  mind,  ingenuous  till  now,  but  which  the 
favors  of  fortune  begin  to  corrupt.  You  ^'ill  view 
with  apprehension  the  co.nstantly  increasing  ravages 
of  luxury,  and,  with  still  more  pain,  the  want  of  feeling 
that  follows  in  its  train.  I  do  not,  however,  insist  upon 
this  accusation,  because,  perhaps,  it  has  less  foundation 
than  the  rest,  and  because  it  is  not  impossible  I  may 
have  taken  for  hardness  of  heart  what  was  only  intox- 


2/2  LIFE   OF   JOSErUI>-E. 

ication  of  spirit.  Be  this,  however,  as  it  may,  the  effect 
is  the  same,  manifested  as  this  haughtiness  is  by  vanity, 
insolence,  and  harsh  refusals,  producing  deplorable  im- 
pressions upon  those  who  witness  these  outrages.  Men 
are  not  slow  to  sharpen  the  memory  of  those  who  seem 
disposed  to  forget  their  origin ;  and  the  sole  means  of 
inducing  others  to  pardon  our  good  fortune,  is  to  enjoy 
it  with  moderation,  sharing  its  gifts  with  those  who 
have  been  less  favored." 

Turning  from  the  incidents  in  the  daily  life  of  the 
imperial  household,  we  find  the  years  were  full  of  stir- 
ring events  to  the  political  world,  A  continent  was 
all  astir — with  marching  armies — the  making  and 
breaking  of  treaties — intrigues  and  plots  of  assassina- 
tion, A  new  order  of  nobility  was  founded,  and  the 
ancient  university  rebuilt  upon  a  foundation  in  harmony 
with  the  despotic  views  of  a  sovereign  whose  opinions 
were  strangely  modified  by  the  successive  strides  he 
made  in  the  path  of  his  solitary  grandeur. 

This  universal  unrest,  was  a  condition  of  things 
<;ongenial  to  Bonaparte,  to  whom  the  pleasure  of  re- 
tirement and  love  itself,  "  was  a  song  piped  at  the  in- 
tervals of  the  dance" — and,  "  as  his  favorite  poet  Os- 
sian,  loved  best  to  tune  his  lyre  to  the  noise  of  the 
roaring  tempest.  Napoleon,  in  like  manner,  required 
political  storms  and  opposing  elements  to  display  his 
wonderful  abilities."  His  astonishing  successes  awed 
the  nations,  and  expanded  the  horizon  of  his  ambition, 
until  he  could  gaze  upon  no  object  that  cast  a  shadow 
of  uncertainty  on  the  boundless  prospect  without  irri- 


LIFB  OF  JOSEPHINB.  2lS 

tation,  and  hold  communion  with  none  but  himself 
A  new  leaf  is  soon  turned  in  the  destiny  of  empires,  of 
Napoleon,  and  of  the  guardian  angel  who  had  hung 
with  delight  over  his  path  of  glory,  and  with  tears 
over  his  couch  of  suffering — shrinking  only  from  the 
frown  of  displeasure  or  accents  of  reproach. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  HKW  PHASE  IN  JOSKPHINk's   DESTINT. — NAPOLEON'S  LOVE. — HIS   DESIEE 

FOE  A   SUCCESSOR. ^ECMOR    THAT    THE    PEINCE   EOTAL   OF   HOLLAND  IS 

TO    BE    THE    HEIE-APPAEENT. CHAEACTEE    OF     THE    YOUNG   PEINCE.^ 

HIS   AFFECTION    FOE    BONAPAETE. ALTEENATE    HOPE   AND    FEAE. THE 

PEINCE  DIES. — ^Josephine's  geief. — napoleon's  eetuen  feom  tilsit 

TEEATMENT  of   "fHE   EMPEESS. ^JOUENET   TO    ITALY. SCENES   AT  THE 

CAPITAL. NAPOLEON. ^JOSEPHINE's     DIAEY. SPANISH    AFFAIES. INCI- 
DENTS OF  THE   JOURNEY. THE   EMPEEOE   MEETS   ALEXANDEE. EESULTS. 

JOSEPHINE. EETUEN    TO    PAEIS. BONAPARTe's    DESIGNS. PEEPAEA- 

TIONS  FOE   A  DIVOECE. DECEEE   OF   THE   COUNCIL. CONSUMMATION. 

Astronomers  tell  us  of  a  star  which  onoe  shone 
out  in  the  heavens  with  almost  unrivalled  brilliancy. 
It  took  its  place  in  the  firmament  suddenly  and  un; 
heralded,  where  it  blazed  with  a  glory  which  was  not 
only  the  admiration  and  wonder  of  the  common  ob- 
server, but  which  struck  with  astonishment  men  who 
had  grown  old  in  tracing  the  glories  of  the  universe. 
Whence  came  so  suddenly  forth  "  this  bright  peculiar 
star  ?"  what  its  meaning  and  mission,  were  questions 
upon  which  philosophers,  at  once,  began  to  busy  them- 
selves. In  the  midst  of  their  efforts,  the  object  upon 
which  they  had  mused  and  marvelled  began  to  fade 
away.  As  men  were  looking  upon  it  and  wondering 
at  its  brightness,  its  lustre  began  to  pale  before  their 
ejes.    Night  after  night  as  they  gazed  up  into  the 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINB,  2V6 

heavens,  tti^y  saw  its  glory  vanishing  as  it  gradually 
withdrew  from  the  place  where  it  had  been  enthroned 
as  queen  among  the  stars,  till  a  sadness  and  an  awe 
fell  upon  the  beholder,  when  he  caught  the  last  beam 
which  it  sent  down  to  earth,  as  it  passed  away  from 
the  sight  of  man  foreve^ , 

We  have  frequently  thought  of  this  wonderful  star 
as  w^e  have  been  tracing  the  singular  history  of  her, 
who,  like  that  orb,  blazed  forth  so  suddenly  and  shone 
so  brightly  upon  the  visions  of  men,  and  who,  also, 
like  it,  was  destined  to  have  her  glory  fade,  and  be 
consigned  to  obscurity  as  surprising  as  had  been  her 
elevation  to  splendor  and  renown. 

Hitherto  we  have  seen  Josephine  constantly  rising 
in  her  position  in  life.  Every  step  was  an  ascending 
one,  and  every  station  which  she  occupied  seemed  to 
receive  from  her. a  dignity  equal  to  that  which  it  con- 
ferred. As  she  sat  upon  the  throne  of  France,  or 
moved  with  queenly  grace  through  the  halls  of  the 
Tuilleries,  or  manifested  her  intelligence  and  gentle- 
ness to  those  who  were  privileged  with  her  society, 
none  could  fail  to  see  that  she  was  fully  worthy  to 
share  the  rank  and  heart  of  that  strange  mr.n  who 
called  her  his  own.  That  Napoleon  was  proud  of 
Josephine,  arid  that  he  loved  her,  we  may  not  doubt. 
Himself  of  plebeian  origin,  he  had  no  reason  to  value 
her  the  less  because  she  was  not  of  patrician  rank. 
Napoleon  made  distinctions,  and  allowed  neither  his 
feelings  nor  his  purposes  to  be  controlled  by  any 
which  society  had  raised.  The  dignity  which  the 
18  L* 


276  LITE   OF  JOSEPHINE. 

Archduchess  Maria  Louisa  brought  with  her,  failed 
to  elicit  from  Napoleon's  heart  the  admiration  or  the 
love  which  he  had  formerly  lavished  upon  Josephine. 
He  looked  upon  Josephine  as  a  woman,  and  valued 
her  as  such,  independently  of  any  station  which  she 
might  have  previously  held  in  society.     As  his  Em- 
press, receiving  the  homage  of  his  court  to  her  rare 
elegance  of  person  and  manners,  he  doubtless  admired 
her,  but  it  was  the  heart  of  Josephine  which  he  loved. 
Hers  was  a  warmth  of  affection,  rarely  combined  with 
so  much  culture  and  strength  of  intellect,  and  contrary . 
to  the  opinion  of  some,  we  are  constrained  to  believe 
that  it  was  this  which  enabled  her  to  exercise  over  the 
Emperor  so  controlling  a  power.     It  was  a  rare  thing 
for  Napoleon  to  be  loved.     His  people  and  courtiers 
admired,  and  some  almost  reverenced  him :  his  ene- 
mies feared  full  as  much  as  they  hated  him ;  his  sol- 
diers would  court  the  shock  of  battle — would  brave 
dangers  and  death — would  endure  privation  and  hard- 
ship, and  suffering  and  toil,  in  the  passion  of  their  de- 
votion to  him ;  but  Napoleon  well  knew,  that  amid  all 
the  hosts  who  fawned  before  him,  or  would  meet  death 
in  his  service,  few  indeed  there  were  who  poured  out 
upon  him  the  rich  wealth  of  a  loving,  trusting  heart. 
The  affection  of  Josephine  was  thus  especially  gratify- 
ing to  his  stern  nature.     Knowing  that  she  loved  him 
fondly,  truly,  devotedly,  and  perceiving  in  her,  as  he 
did,  all  those  qualities  of  person  and  intellect  which 
could  command  his  admiration,  it  was  impossible  for 
aim  to  fail  in  having  a  corresponding  affection  for  hei 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE,  277 

in  return.  We  have  the  best  evidence  that  Napoleon 
not  only  admired,  but  loved  his  beautiful  wife,  and  the 
tale  is  a  singular  and  sad  one,  which  we  are  compelled 
to  relate,  how  his  heart  grew  cold  toward  Josephine, 
as  he  gathered  in  and  centered  once  more  upon  him- 
self, the  affection  which  only  one  being  besides  himself 
had  ever  shared.  It  adds  a  fresh  coloring  to  the  ambi- 
tion and  self-love  of  that  wonderful  man,  who  could 
stride  with  equal  ease  over  a  heart  which  he  had  bro- 
ken, and  a  throne  which  he  had  crushed. 

The  coolness  with  which  the  Emperor  now  began 
to  regard  Josephine,  was  of  slow  growth.  It  was  im- 
possible that  he  should  at  once  break  away  from  all 
the  chains  which  her  affection  had  thrown  over  his 
heart.  But  self-love  was,  with  Napoleon,  a  passion 
far  stronger  than  his  love  for  Josephine.  His  own 
genius  had  raised  him  to  greatness ;  his  own  power 
and  wondrous  energy  had  made  all  Europe  stand  in 
awe  before  him,  and  borne  him  to  an  elevation  where 
he  could  toy  with  crowns  and  sceptres  as  the  baubles 
of  a  child.  His  gigantic  spirit  had  risen  to  eminence 
by  its  own  might,  and  unaided,  had  it  swept  away  old 
dynasties  which  crowded  in  his  path,  and  made  gray 
monarchies  to  totter  till  they  fell  at  his  feet.  Josephine 
occupied  a  portion  of  his  heart ;  the  remainder  was 
filled  only  with  himself.  Standing,  as  he  did,  upon  the 
pinnacle  of  his  greatness,  and  surveying  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  his  power,  there  were  frequent  moments  of  bit- 
ter mortification  when  he  felt  that  none  of  his  schemes 
were  immortal,  that  all  this  vast  edifice,  reared  bv  his 


278  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINB. 

hand,  was  to  crumble  away  at  his  death.  Had  he  off 
spring  to  whom  he  could  transmit  it,  and  thus  perpetu- 
ate his  name  and  sovereignty,  his  aspirations  would 
have  been  unchecked.  It  was  a  wound  which  his  pride 
keenly  felt,  that  when  he  should  pass  away  from  the 
earth,  he  could  leave  no  child  to  sway  his  sceptre,  and 
send  onward  to  distant  generations  the  echo  of  his 
fame.  It  was  long  before  he  would  allow  this  to  influ- 
ence his  feelings  towards  Josephine.  He  loved  her, 
and  it  was  a  struggle  to  tear  away  the  affections  which 
he  had  really  and  fondly  bestowed ;  but  where  was 
the  earthly  object  which  could  stand  in  the  way  of  his 
hopes  ? 

The  Empress  saw  the  gathering  storm.  Dark  fore- 
bodings tortured  her  heart.  She  marked  the  cold  look 
the  averted  eye,  and  with  her  natural  quickness  of  per- 
ception, at  once  divined  the  cause.  But  it  was  not 
possible  for  her  to  look  quietly  on  and  see  the  blighting 
change,  without  making  at  least  one  effort  to  regain  his 
waning  love.  To  be  queen  of  his  heart  was  richer  to 
her  a  thousand-fold,  than  to  wear  the  diadem  of  France 
upon  her  brow.  She  could  see  the  throne  crumble  be- 
neath her,  and  could  bear  to  have  the  admiring  mur- 
murs of  the  courtly  throng  who  pressed  around  her, 
exchanged  for  taunts  and  scorn ;  but  she  could  not  feel 
without  a  pang  that  she  was  looked  upon  carelessly  by 
him,  around  whom  clustered  all  the  warmest,  fondest 
feelings  of  her  heart. 

For  a  time,  Josephine  believed  that  she  still  retained 
her  hold  upon  his  affections.     She  had  reason  to  think 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  279 

that  Napoleon  would  be  content  to  make  the  Prince 
Royal  of  Holland  his  successor.  The  report  was 
widely  circulated  that  this  was  the  Emperor's  inten- 
tion, and  there  is  now  every  reason  to  believe  that 
such  was  his  plan.  The  child  belonged  to  the  impe- 
rial family,  He  was  the  eldest  son  of  Hortense,  and 
his  father  was  the  favorite  brother  of  Napoleon.  He 
bore  his  uncle's  name,  and  even  in  his  childish  sports 
gave  evidence  that  he  possessed,  in  no  small  degree, 
his  uncle's  character.  The  Emperor  would  relax  his 
sternness,  and  unbend  himself  from  the  cares  of  state 
and  perplexities  of  war,  to  take  the  young  Napoleon 
upon  his  knee,  and  listen  to  his  prattle  of  the  revolu- 
tions he  would  guide  when  he  became  a  man.  Though 
but  a  child,  his  firmness  of  character  seemed  unyield- 
ing, even  to  the  severest  tests  to  which  Napoleon  at 
times  took  pleasure  in  subjecting  it.  A  smile  would 
spread  over  the  Emperor's  calm  features  as  he  saw  his 
nephew  come  forth  unsubdued  from  every  trial  to 
which  he  had  submitted  him.  One  day  a  domestic 
had  allowed  him  to  partake  freely  of  a  fruit  which  ha*' 
been  forbidden  him,  on  account  of  the  indispositior 
which  uniformly  attended  the  indulgence.  In  the  ill 
ness  which  ensued,  Hortense  endeavored  to  learn  the 
name  of  the  servant  who  had  disobeyed  her  com- 
mands in  giving  him  the  luxury.  The  young  Prince 
raised  himself  in  the  bed,  while  an  untamed  fire  sat  in 
his  bright  eye,  as  he  said — "  I  promised  that  I  would 
not  tell,  and  I  will  die  before  I  break  my  promise.'* 
This  firmness,  joined  to  a  passion  which  he  seemed  to 


280  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

Lave  for  military  exploits,  especially  endeared  him  to 
the  heart  of  his  uncle.  He  would  buckle  around  him 
the  Emperor's  sword-belt,  and  donning  his  plumed 
chapeau,  would  act  the  general  in  the  saloons  of  the 
Tuilleries  or  at  Fontainebleau,  with  infinite  glee.  His 
affection  for  Napoleon  was  stronger  than  for  any  other 
object.  Neither  Josephine  nor  his  parents,  could  have 
any  rivalry  in  the  unbounded  love  with  which  he  re- 
garded his  uncle.  The  playthings  which  Napoleon 
gave  him,  were  valued  higher  than  the  richer  presents 
which  he  had  received  from  any  other  source.  Bona- 
parte was  first  in  all  his  affections.  His  morning  sal- 
utations must  be  given  first  to  him  alone ;  his  first  in- 
quiries were  respecting  him ;  hfs  first  efforts  were  to 
please  him.  A  smile  from  that  countenance,  which 
had  looked  death  from  so  many  battle-fields,  was  rap- 
ture to  his  boyish  heart. 

These  traits,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  in  the  direct 
imperial  line,  determined  Napoleon  to  make  him  his 
heir.  It  was  the  court  talk  at  Paris  and  the  Hague. 
Nobles  of  the  realm  paid  their  devoirs  to  the  young 
Prince  as  their  future  lord.  Marshals  of  the  Empire 
were  wont  to  gaze  curiously  at  him,  and  wonder  whether 
he  would  ever  plan  a  battle  which  should  place  a  na- 
tion in  his  grasp.  Intriguing  politicians  began  to  scheme 
how  they  might  best  secure  his  favor,  and  crafty  cour- 
tiers already  strove  to  gain  a  permanent  place  in  his 
regards.  All  this  was  well  known  to  Napoleon,  anfl  it 
cannot  be  supposed  that  he  had  given  no  reason  for  it. 
He  noticed,  and  seemed  pleased  with  the  attentions 


LIFB  OP  JOSEPHINB.  "  i?81 

which  his  young  nephew  received.  The  repoft,  which 
came  to  his  ears  again  and  again,  that  he  had  intimated 
his  intention  of  adopting  the  Prince,  was  never  contra- 
dicted. That  such  was  his  plan  is  not  at  all  improba- 
ble. The  King  of  Holland  was  then  in  the  highest 
favor  with  his  brother ;  the  Queen  was  the  only  daugh- 
ter of  Josephine,  and  as  such,  endeared  to  the  Empe- 
ror by  a  thousand  ties.  The  young  Prince  was  not 
only  a  favorite,  but  Napoleon  would  have  preferred 
such  a  succession,  rather  than  to  obtain  another  by 
breaking  the  heart  of  Josephine.  The  Empress  saw 
all  this  with  gratitude  and  hope.  She  was  a  woman 
of  great  shrewdness,  and  her  efforts  had  been  chiefly 
instrumental  in  bringing  about  a  state  of  things  so  fa- 
vorable. She  understood  perfectly  the  precise  place 
which  she  occupied  in  her  husband's  affections.  She 
knew  that  he  loved  her,  but  she  also  knew  that  her 
hold  upon  his  heart  was  one  that  would  be  broken 
whenever  it  should  lie  in  the  way  of  his  ambition. 
Her  keen  penetration  instantly  detected  the  cause,  the 
first  time  his  alienation  towards  her  was  manifested. 
She  had  feared  that  an  ungrateful  desire  for  a  succes- 
sor would  eventually  modify  his  feeling  towards  her, 
and  the  remedy  for  this  may  have  been  devised  by 
herself.  Certainly  she  used  every  effort  to  strengthen 
the  affection  between  the  Emperor  and  his  nephew, 
confident  that  if  she  succeeded  in  this,  her  influence 
over  Napoleon  would  still  be  undiminished. 

Her  expectations   were  not   in  vain.     The   cloud 
rolled  from  the  Emperor's  brow  as  ho  saw  with  cer- 


282  LITE    OF   JOSEPHINE. 

tainty  how  he  might  still  retain  Josephine,  and  the 
imperial  line  of  descent  remain  unbroken.  His  appar- 
ent aversion  vanished.  His  former  love  returned  and 
sunny  days  once  more  beamed  radiantly  upon  Jose- 
phine. The  full  fountain  of  her  affection  flowed  forth 
freely,  and  Napoleon  forgot  at  times  that  he  was  an 
Emperor,  and  remembered  only  that  he  was  a  man. 
The  genial  feelings  now  cherished  towards  his  wife, 
open  a  brighter  view  of  his  character  than  we  could 
otherwise  obtain.  Though  blended  with  the  sterner 
emotions  which  always  ruled  him,  they  show  that  his 
iron  nature  was  not  altogether  unyielding.  They  are 
like  a  gleam  of  sunshine  resting  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
thunder-cloud,  lighting  up  the  dark  birthplace  of  the 
tempest,  and  making  it  smile  with  its  own  celestial 
beauty. 

These  were  bright  hours  in  the  life  of  Josephine,  but 
darker  days  were  soon  to  fling  their  shadows  on  her 
path.  A  blow,  so  unlocked  for  that  she  had  hardly 
dreamed  that  it  were  possible,  fell  at  length  upon  her, 
breaking  the  spell  that  bound  her  spirit,  alid  blotting 
every  ray  from  the  firmament  of  hope.  In  the  spring 
of  1807,  the  young  prince  died.  An  illness  so  sudden 
that  it  had  proved  fatal  before  the  court  physicians  who 
had  been  summoned  at  once  from  Paris  could  reach 
him,  closed  his  life  of  promise.  Josephine  was  then  at 
St.  Cloud,  and  the  courier  who  first  brought  her  tidings 
of  the  sickness  of  the  prince,  was  followed  in  a  few 
hours  by  another  bearing  the  news  of  his  death.  The 
bolt  was  a  terrible  one — under  no  other  aflHiction  had 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  283 

her  sorrow  appeared  so  great.  Day  after  day  she  shut 
herself  up  in  her  apartments,  weeping  bitterly  and 
"  refusing  to  be  comforted."  Her  own  affection  for 
her  grandson  doubtless  contributed  to  her  grief,  but  its 
chief  source  was  the  fact  that  the  strongest  tie  which 
bound  her  to  the  Emperor  was  now  riven.  She  well 
knew  his  desires  ;  she  understood  fully  his  nature,  and 
familiar  with  the  unbounded  sweep  of  his  purposes,  slie 
might  rationally  tremble  for  the  result.  Broken  with 
grief,  her  heart  quailed  with  fear  as  she  attempted  to 
lift  the  veil  which  separated  her  from  a  future  all  gloom 
and  sadness  to  her  thought. 

Napoleon  was  conducting  the  Prussian  campaign 
when  the  news  reached  him  of  his  nephew's  death.  It 
gave  him  unfeigned  sorrow,  for  his  love  and  ambition 
were  wounded,  and  his  plans  fcfr  the  succession  of  his 
crown  were  of  course  frustrated  at  once.  *'  To  whom 
shall  I  leave  all  this,"  was  the  constantly  recurring 
expression  of  his  emotion  as  he  viewed  his  daily  increas- 
ing power  ;  and  the  design  was  now  formed  with  per- 
fect calmness  and  deliberation  to  abandon  Josephine 
and  seek  for  himself  a  new  Empress  from  one  of  the 
reigning  houses  of  Europe.  This  was  what  the  heart 
of  Josephine  feared.  She  would  have  given  worlds  to 
have  been  with  him,  but  many  leagues  intervened 
between  St.  Cloud  and  Tilsit.  Rumors  of  Napoleon's 
movements  which  were  constantly  coming  to  the  Em- 
press's ears  only  served  to  harass  her,  and  increase  her 
anxiety.  It  was  said  that  he  had  renewed  an  acquain- 
tance with  9k  beautiful  Polish  lady  to  whom  he  was 


S8i  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINE. 

formerly  attached,*  and  exaggerated  accounts  of  an 
interview  which  he  was  said  to  have  held  with  the 
Queen  of  Prussia,  were  carried  to  Josephine.  But 
above  all,  the  news  which  produced  the  liveliest  emo- 
tions and  awakened  the  keenest  solicitude  in  her  breast, 
was  the  vague  report,  more  terrible  on  account  of  its 
vagueness,  that  Napoleon  had  made  direct  overtures  to 
the  Emperor  Alexander,  for  an  alliance  by  marriage 
with  the  imperial  family  of  Russia.  Josephine  could 
not  believe,  and  yet  she  dared  not  discredit  the  story. 
Separated  for  the  time  from  her  immediate  influence, 
she  felt  that  he  might  interpose  a  hopeless  barrier 
should  he  once  decide  that  she  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
stupendous  designs. 

On  the  27th  of  July  of  this  year,  Napoleon  rejoined 
the  Empress  at  St.  Cloud.  He  was  flushed  with  the 
glories  of  a  most  brilliant  campaign,  and  his  arms  had 
been  everywhere  successful.  He  had  conquered  at 
Preussich-Eylau  and  at  Friedland,  and  was  master  of 
Dantzic  and  Koningsberg.  He  had  humbled  the  pride 
of  the  King  of  Prussia  by  wresting  from  him  some  of 
his  fairest  possessions.  He  had  at  length  brought  the 
Emperor  of  Russia  into  an  alliance  upon  the  most 
favorable  terms,  and  had  succeeded  in  making  a  treaty 
of  peace  at  Tilsit,  in  which  he  received  every  con- 
cession while  he  made  none.  By  it  the  Rhenish  con- 
federacy was  sustained ;  his  two  brothers  Joseph  and 
Louis  were  acknowledged  Kings  of  Naples  and  Holland, 
and  Westphalia  was  avowed  to  be  at  his  disposal.     His 

*  This  lady  afterwards  visited  Napoleon  at  Elba. 


LIFE  OP  J08EPH1NB.  285 

claim  was  undisputed  to  the  whole  of  the  Prussian 
provinces  between  the  Elbe  and  the  Rhine.  The 
Hanoverian  states,  the  territories  belonging  to  the 
Duchy  of  Brunswick,  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse  Cassel, 
together  with  the  Ionian  Islands,  were  all  his  own.  In 
addition  to  all  this,  by  the  treaty  of  peace,  the  previous 
encroachments  of  the  French  in  various  portions  of 
Europe  were  sanctioned  and  confirmed.  Flushed  with 
these  victories  and  acquisitions.  Napoleon  was  prepared 
to  meet  Josephine  with  an  enthusiastic  show  of  cor- 
diality. No  want  of  affection  was  manifested  either 
on  his  part  or  her  own.  She  received  the  most  con- 
stant attentions  from  him,  and  for  a  time  seemed  never 
to  imagine  that  the  joy  which  he  apparently  felt  in  her 
presence,  might  be  partly  the  results  of  the  triumphs, 
which  he  had  lately  achieved. 

For  a  few  months  Napoleon  gave  himself  up  to  the 
enjoyment  of  her  society  at  St.  Cloud,  and  Fontaine- 
bleau ;  months  of  almost  perfect  happiness  to  his  de- 
voted wife.  She  saw  only  the  bright  side  of  the  pic- 
ture, and  in  the  joy  of  the  present  moment  forgot  all 
that  she  had  previously  supposed  or  heard.  But  there 
were  others,  who  at  this  lime  saw  Napoleon  in  a  dif- 
ferent light.  When  removed  from  Josephine's  pres- 
ence, he  lost  that  ease  and  quiet  which  he  had  in  her 
society,  and  displayed  an  impatience  with  his  present 
condition,  and  restlessness  that  did  not  pass  unob- 
served. He  would  sit  for  hours  conversing  with  the 
Empress,  but  when  she  had  left  him,  he  could  not  re- 
main calm  for  a  moment.     At  such  times,  he  would 


286  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

frequently  take  to  the  chase  and  pursue  it  with  a  per- 
fect frenzy  of  passion.  Was  he  in  this  way  endeavor- 
ing to  escape  from  a  dark  design  which  was  troubling 
his  thoughts,  and  resting  with  a  heavy  weight  upon 
i  his  spirit  ?  Such  were  the  surmises  of  his  attendants, 
and  it  was  even  whispered  that  he  had  mentioned  to 
another  his  purpose  to  obtain  a  divorce  from  his  wife  ; 
but  these  reports  were  not  carried  to  the  ears  of  Jose- 
phine. If  this  was  his  purpose,  there  was  evidently 
an  effort,  in  which  he  perfectly  succeeded,  to  keep 
the  knowledge  of  it  from  her,  whom  of  all  others  it 
most  concerned.  Her  usual  penetration  appears  for 
a  time  to  have  left  her,  and  she  lived  on,  joyous  and 
unconcerned,  careless  of  the  future ;  as  a  flower  opens 
its  petals  and  smiles  in  the  glad  sunshine,  unconscious 
that  the  storm  is  near  which  shall  lay  it  low,  and 
scatter  its  leaves  to  the  winds  of  heaven. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  for  three  months.*  In 
IRovember,  ITapoleon  suddenly  signified  to  Josephine 
his  intention  of  proceeding  to  Italy,  and  bade  her  to 
be  ready  to  accompany  him  in  a  few  hours.  His  os- 
tensible reason  was  to  secure  the  Grand  Duchy  of 
Tuscany  for  his  sister  Eliza,  and  to  confirm  by  his 
presence  the  treaty  of  Presburg,  which  had  annexed 
Venice  and  the  other  Italian  provinces  to  the  kingdom 
of  Italy.  But  his  main  object  was  doubtless  different 
from  either  of  these.  The  conclusion  is  irresistible 
that  his  determination  to  divorce  Josephine,  was  fixed 

*  It  was  during  this  time  that  the  Emperor  framed  the  celebrated 
Code  Napoleon. 


LIFE   OP  JOSEPHIKE.  2IJ7 

soon  after  the  death  of  the  prince  royal  of  Holland, 
and  that  his  present  journey  to  Italy,  was  mainly  for 
the  purpose  of  sounding  Eugene  upon  this  point. 

The  viceroy  with  his  attendants  came  out  to  meet 
him  as  he  approached  Milan;  " Dismount,  dismount," 
cried  Napoleon  to  Eugene — "  come  seat  yourself  witlv 
me,  and  let  us  enter  your  capital  together."  The 
viceroy  did  as  desired,  and  the  imperial  carriage  bear- 
ing Napoleon,  Josephine,  and  Eugene,  entered  the 
gates  of  the  city.  The  Emperor  signified  to  Eugene 
his  approbation  of  all  that  he  had  done,  and  loaded 
him  with  favors.  He  saw  that  it  was  highly  impor- 
tant that,  in  the  steps  which  he  had  determined  to  take 
in  reference  to  Josephine,  Eugene  should  be  complai- 
sant, and  it  was  doubtless  in  reference  to  this,  that  the 
famous  Milan  decree  was  promulgated,  by  which  in 
default  of  his  own  lawful  male  heirs,  Napoleon  adopted 
Eugene  as  his  son,  and  made  him  heir  to  the  "  iron 
crown"  of  Italy.  Satisfying  himself  that  Eugene  felt 
the  obligations  under  which  he  was  laid,  and  hoping  in 
his  after  measures,  to  be  able  to  deal  with  him  success- 
fully, Napoleon  left  Milan,  and  after  a  hasty  tour 
through  the  other  Italian  provinces,  returned  with 
Josephine  to  Paris. 

The  winter  which  succeeded  this  journey,  was  one 
of  the  gayest  which  Paris  had  known  since  the  days 
of  Louis  XIV.  The  city  was  crowded  with  gay 
nobles  and  demoiselles  from  all  parts  of  the  empire. 
Foreign  ambassadors  from  every  quarter  of  the  world 
were  present,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  the  splendoi 


2M  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHENE. 

of  their  entertainments.  The  Emperor  and  Empress 
held  their  court  at  St.  Cloud,  with  unrivalled  magnifi- 
cence. Several  marriages  of  high  diplomatic  im- 
portance were  celebrated,  all  tending  to  swell  the  tide 
of  gayety  which  was  flowing  in  every  part  of  the  cap- 
ital. The  Duke  of  Arberg,  one  of  the  princes  of  the 
Rhenish  Confederacy,  led  to  the  altar  Mademoiselle  de 
Tascher,  a  niece  of  the  Empress.  Soon  after  were 
celebrated  the  nuptials  of  the  Prince  Hohenzollern 
with  a  niece  of  Murat,  and  speedily  following,  the 
Marshal  Berthier  was  wedded  to  a  princess  of  the 
royal  house  of  Bavaria.  Napoleon  contrary  to  his 
usual  custom  mingled  in  all  these  festivities,  displaying 
an  appearance  of  unwonted  gayety ;  and  even  con- 
sented repeatedly  to  wear  a  disguise,  and  appear 
among  the  dancers  at  the  masked  balls.  Josephine, 
however,  began  to  penetrate  the  secret  delusion  and 
fathom  his  plans,  notwithstanding  his  efforts  to  conceal 
them  from  her  knowledge.  In  all  his  attentions  to  her- 
self; in  all  his  gayeties;  in  all  the  honors  which  he 
had  lavished  upon  her  son,  she  began  to  read  her  own 
dark  destiny.  It  was  a  terrible  thought  which  forced 
itself  upon  her  mind,  that  Napoleon's  present  appear- 
ance was  only  a  guise,  thrown  over  his  own  real  feel- 
ings ;  that  the  smile  of  his  countenance  with  which  he 
was  wont  to  greet  her,  was  designed  to  cover  the 
frown  which  lay  upon  his  heart. 

In  public,  no  one  read  her  own  secret  feelings.  The 
heart  which  was  ready  to  break  seemed  light  and  joy- 
ous as  that  of  a  child.     She  was  playing  a  part  as  well 


LIFB   OF  JOSEPHIICB.  289 

as  Napoleon,  though  none  knew  it  then  but  herself. 
With  a  resolute  effort  to  hide  her  sorrow,  she  engaged 
in  all  the  festivities  of  the  season,  danced  and  played, 
the  gayest  of  the  gay  crowd  which  thronged  the  cap- 
ital ;  receiving  with  becoming  grace  all  the  attentions 
which  the  Emperor  continued  to  bestow  upon  her ; 
while  all  the  time  her  soul  was  burdened,  by  the  double 
anguish  of  slighted  love,  and  wounded  pride.  The  dis- 
position of  Josephine  was  naturally  light  and  joyous. 
She  was  inclined  by  nature  to  and  a  brighter  view  in 
every  picture  of  life,  and  it  was  doubtless  this  which 
supported  her  so  well  under  the  knowledge  she  pos- 
sessed of  Napoleon's  intentions  towards  her.  Hei 
hopefulness,  also,  led  her  at  times  fondly  to  trust  that 
the  storm  would  retire,  while  reason  persuaded  her 
that  the  Emperor  would  not  allow  her  happiness  to 
thwart  the  plan  which  she  knew  he  cherished.  What 
was  she  in  comparison  with  him  ?  What  was  her  poor 
human  heart  worth,  and  what  availed  the  treasure  of 
its  affection  to  him,  who  made  them  subordinate  to  a 
throne,  and  the  inscription  of  his  name  on  its  columns  ? 
Bleeding  affections,  blasted  hopes,  and  tears,  never 
bowed  the  will  of  Napoleon.  Josephine  perfectly  un- 
derstood that  such  trifles  in  his  path,  would  be  swept 
away  like  chaff  before  the  resistless  march  of  the 
whirlwind. 

Let  not  Napoleon,  however,  be  misunderstood.  As 
we  have  said  before,  he  loved  Josephine,  and  this, 
probably,  with  a  stronger  affection  than  he  ever  gave 
to  any  other  object.     But  he  would  not  let  one  of  the 


290  LITE   OF   JOSEPHINE. 

purposes  or  plans  which  he  had  formed  go  unacconr 
plished,  though  the  world  were  to  perish.  "  All,  or 
nothing,"  was  his  motto  when  a  boy  in  Corsica,  and  it 
was  one  feeling  of  his  heart  when  he  became  a  man. 
No'plan  which  he  made  was  a  trivial  one  with  him, 
for  it  affected  himself.  Everything,  in  his  estimation, 
should  be  subservient  to  him,  and  everything  over 
which  he  had  the  control  was  made  so.  With  this 
view,  we  can  easily  see  that  his  love  for  Josephine 
would  not  endure  for  a  moment,  if  it  conflicted  with 
any  of  his  designs  for  self-aggrandizement.  The  Em- 
press understood  it,  and  knowing  that  one  of  his  cher- 
ished schemes  was  for  the  perpetuity  of  his  empire,  she 
now  clearly  saw  that  her  own  sacrifice  was  inevitable. 
The  Prince  of  Holland  had  died  ;  the  viceroy,  Eugene, 
though  adopted  by  Napoleon,  Josephine  knew  could 
never  be  the  successor  to  the  empire.  Upon  no  living 
member  of  his  own  family,  would  the  Emperor  fix  his 
choice,  and  there  was  thus  left  no  alternative  to  his 
seeking  a  wife  who  might  bring  him  up  an  heir  to  the 
throne. 

It  is  not  at  all  unnatural,  that  Napoleon  should  have 
so  strong  a  desire  for  posterity.  Aside  from  political 
motives,  and  inordinate  self-love,  such  a  desire  belongs 
to  every  man.  It  is  in  a  certain  degree  the  outgoing 
of  every  one's  natural  affection.  The  owner  of  a  sin- 
gle hut,  or  of  a  petty  farm,  is  unhappy  if  he  have 

"  No  son  of  his  succeeding," 
to  whom  he  can  leave  his  solitary  estate.     No  one 


LIPB  OF  JOSEPHINE.  291 

quits  the  world  without  desiring  that  there  should  be 
some  link  to  connect  him  still  to  it ;  that  there  remain 
behind  him  some  stream  of  influence  which  has  risen 
in  himself,  and  which,  when  he  is  gone,  shall  flow  on 
and  move  mankind.  It  is  a  wish  natural  to  universal 
humanity,  and  there  are  few  to  which  men  cling  with 
such  sincere  attachment.  It  belonged  to  Napoleon  in 
common  with  his  race,  and  was  stronger  in  him  than 
in  any  other  man,  because  his  power  was  more  exten- 
sive, and  his  influence  vaster;  it  was  a  desire  com- 
mensurate with  his  own  greatness,  which  grew  with 
every  victory,  and  strengthened  with  every  increase 
of  his  power,  winding  itself  more  and  more  closely 
about  his  heart  with  eveiy  step  taken  in  his  ascending 
career;  and  which  accompanied  every  thought  of 
glory,  and  held  a  power  over  him  only  equalled  by 
that  which  he  himself  swayed  so  tremendously  over 
the  minds  of  other  men. 

Napoleon,  however,  gave  Josephine  no  direct  inti- 
mation of  his  intentions,  but  continued  to  treat  her 
with  all  the  cordiality  which  he  had  ever  manifested. 
The  winter  passed  as  we  have  described,  a  scene  of 
uninterrupted  gayety.  The  Emperor  had,  however 
found  time  to  plan  a  great  movement  upon  Spain 
which  in  the  spring  he  began  to  carry  into  execution. 
Napoleon  had  long  been  bent  upon  having  the  Span- 
ish throne,  and  by  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  the  Emperor 
of  Russia  had  covenanted  not  to  interfere  with  any  of 
his  designs  in  this  respect,  and  the  field  was  now  open. 

Spain  had  broken  her  treaty  with  France,  and  thus 
19  M 


293  ZJFB  OF  J06BPHINB. 

afforded  Napoleon  all  the  pretext  which  he  needed,  to 
commence  operations  against  her.  His  design  was 
fixed,  that  the  Pyrenees  should  no  longer  separate 
these  two  independent  monarchies ;  that  the  house  of 
Braganza,  as  well  as  that  of  Bourbon,  should  be  demol- 
ished, and  that  of  Bonaparte  built  upon  the  ruins  of 
them  both. 

Partly  to  make  arrangements  for  this,  he  left  St. 
Cloud  early  in  April,  accompanied  by  Josephine.  The 
design  of  his  journey,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  he  con- 
templated it,  were  all  unknown  to  the  Empress,  till  a 
few  hours  previously  to  their  departure.  Fontaine- 
bleau  was  to  be  their  first  stopping-place  after  having 
left  St.  Cloud,  and  the  following  hasty  note,  written  by 
Josephine  to  the  Countess  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  her 
lady  of  honor  at  Fontainebleau,  illustrates  the  sudden- 
ness with  which  she  was  frequently  compelled  to  meet 
the  behests  of  the  Emperor. 

"  We  set  out  at  four  this  morning,*  and  will  be  with 
you  to  breakfast  at  ten.  I  hasten  to  expedite  this  bil- 
let, that  you  may  not  be  taken  by  surprise.  You  know 
the  Emperor's  activity  and  inflexible  resolution ;  both 
seem  to  increase  with  events.  But  an  hour  ago  I  was 
completely  ignorant  of  this  departure.  We  were  at 
cards.  '  Be  ready,  madam,'  said  he  to  me,  '  to  get  into 
your  carriage  at  midnight.'  '  But,'  answered  I,  '  it  is 
now  past  nine.*  '  It  is  so,'  said  he,  *  you  must  require 
some  time  for  your  toilet ;  let  us  start  at  two.'  '  Where 
are  you  going,  if  you  please  ?'    '  To  Bayonne.'    '  What, 

*  It  vaa  the  6th  of  ApriL 


LEFB  OF  JOSEPHINE.  293 

BO  far !  and  my  pensioners,  I  must  regulate  their  af- 
fairs.' '  I  cannot,  madam,  refuse  you  one  hour  for  the 
unfortunate ;  take  another  to  write  to  your  friends — 
you  will  not  forget  Madam  de  la  Rochefoucauld.' 
Good  night,  my  dear  friend.  I  am  just  falling  asleep 
— they  will  carry  me  thus  to  the  carriage,  and  I  shall 
not  awaken  till  with  you,  to  bid  you  good  morning  and 
embrace  you  with  all  my  heart." 

The  journey  thus  announced  proved  an  eventful 
one  to  Josephine  as  well  as  to  Napoleon.  We  cannot 
better  relate  it  than  by  inserting  the  hasty  notes  which 
she  penned  during  its  progress.  It  was  the  last  tour 
of  importance  which  she  ever  made  with  Napoleon. 

"  This  evening  we  leave  St.  Cloud,  in  order  to  visit 
the  whole  of  the  western  coast  of  France.  I  shall 
trace  a  few  notes  in  pencil. 

"At  Etampes*  we  were  stopped  by  a  number  of 
young  people  of  both  sexes,  who  presented  us,  some 
with  cherries,  other  with  roses.  The  Emperor,  in 
passing  through  their  village,  sent  for  the  mayor  and 
the  curate.  The  former,  a  merry  peasant,  began  to 
banter  his  compatriots  on  the  nature  of  their  presents. 
'  Certainly,'  said  the  Emperor, '  however  beautiful  theirs 
may  be,  an  ear  of  corn  and  a  bunch  of  grapes  would 
have  been  more  rare.'  '  Here  are  three  of  each  sort,' 
replied  the  rural  magistrate  ;   '  and  confess,  sir,  that  in 

•  "  Etampes  is  the  first  town  in  the  Orleannais  proceeding  from 
Paris  to  Bordeaux.  The  passage  is  interesting,  as  an  example  of 
Napoleon  s  manner  with  his  subjects ;  but  how  are  we  to  explain  corn 
aod  grapes  m  Aprill    Was  this  one  of  hia  CQatrirancear — Mtmet, 


294  LIPB  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

April,  it  is  good  farming.'  '  Nature  has  been  bountiful 
to  your  canton,'  observed  the  Emperor,  presenting  the 
offering  to  me.  '  Accept  it,  madam ;  and  forget  not 
those  whom  Providence  deigns  to  keep  in  mind.' 
*  Providence,'  said  the  curate,  '  always  blesses  the  in- 
dustrious ;  for  they  fulfil  the  most  important  of  his 
laws.'  *  Here,'  remarked  the  Emperor,  making  a  sign 
for  the  postilions  to  proceed,  '  here  are  men  who  unite 
flowers  and  fruits,  the  useful  v/ith  the  agreeable.     They 

IT 

deserve  to  succeed.' 

"  Orleans. — The  national  guard  was  under  arms, 
and  the  authorities  in  full  attendance ;  but  from  the 
knitting  of  his  brows,  I  saw  that  the  Emperor  was  not 
pleased.  '  It  is  painful  for  me,'  were  his  words,  to 
have  to  repay  with  severity  these  expressions  of  joy. 
But  I  have  no  reproaches  to  make  to  the  people ;  I 
address  myself  to  the  authorities.  You  perform  the 
functions  improperly,  or  you  do  not  perform  them  at 
all.  How  have  the  sums  been  employed  which  T 
granted  for  the  canal  ?  How  comes  it,  that  on  the 
roll  of  sales  two  thousand  arpents  of  common,  as 
divided  in  1805  and  1806,  are  totally  suppressed  ?  I 
require  restitution.  The  national  domains  have  been 
below  par,  and  the  purchases  more  difficult  during  the 
last  eighteen  months — the  date  of  your  entering  upon 
office,  Mr.  Prefect.  "Whence  are  these  things  ?  I  am 
not  ignorant  that  here  there  exists  two  opinicns,  as 
directly  opposed  to  the  goverment  as  they  are  to  each 
other.  I  have  no  desire  that  opinions  should  be  sub- 
jects of  persecution  ;  but  if  the}'  break  out  into  deeds 


LTFB  OF  JOSEPniIfK  205 

and  these-  deeds  be  crimes — no  pity!'  The  storm 
passed,  the  Emperor  assumed  a  less  severe  tone,  and 
talked  familiarly  with  the  bishop  and  civil  functionaries, 
not  excepting  even  the  prefect.  But  his  observations 
were  just.  It  is  but  too  certain,  that  in  these  depart- 
ments of  the  Loire  the  jacobins  and  emigrants  have  in 
turn  been  protected. 

"  Bordeaux. — Here  exist  two  dispositions  perfectly 
distinct,  and  that  in  a  reverse  sense  from  those  which 
prevail  throughout  almost  the  whole  of  France.  There 
the  people  love  the  revolution,  and  the  privileged  classes 
alone  oppose  its  progress,  or  rather  retard  its  results. 
These  results  are  strong  and  liberal  institutions,  which 
time,  that  wears  out  all  others,  will,  on  the  contrary, 
tend  to  consolidate.  In  order  to  found  these  institu 
tions  upon  the  ruins  of  party,  there  required  a  con- 
queror who  was  also  a  legislator,  and  that  legislator 
continuing  to  be  a  conqueror.  All  must  unite  in  the 
regeneration  of  a  state.  To  chain  down  faction,  by 
converting  its  passions  into  common  interests,  is  but 
little — nothing  more,  at  most,  than  half  the  work — if  to 
these  neighboring  interests  be  not  attached.  Before 
we  can  be  master  at  home,  at  once  happy  and  glorious 
there,  we  must  neither  bo  under  apprehensions  from 
each  other,  nor  dread  the  process  of  erecting  a  wall  of 
partition.  But  how  is  this  to  be  accomplished  ?  First 
by  reducmg  all  to  submission,  and  then  by  extending 
to  each  a  friendly  hand,  which  may  secure  without 
humbling.  This  is  the  Emperor's  doctrine,  which  he 
has  applied  to  France,  which  France  has  devotedly 


290  LIFB   OF   JOSEPnilTE. 

accepted;  readily  comprehending  that  a  period  of 
transition,  of  trial,  of  reparation,  could  not  be  an  era  of 
enjoyment.  'To-day,'  has  the  Emperor  often  said  to 
me,  '  to-day  we  sow  in  tears  and  in  blood ;  hereafter 
we  shall  reap  glory  and  liberty.'  This  is  exactly  what 
mercantile  selfishness  prevents  them  from  understand- 
ing at  Bordeaux.  Altogether  opposed  to  the  rest  of 
the  empire,  the  body  of  the  people  here  oppose  the  new 
institutions,  they  perceive  only  the  temporary  obstacle 
which  these  institutions  present,  not  to  commerce,  but 
to  their  own  particular  commerce.  What  to  them 
imports  the  good  of  to-morrow  ?  It  is  the  profit  of  to- 
day they  want.  Some  facts  have  confirmed  these  ob- 
servations. While  we  were  on  our  way  to  the  theatre 
the  vivas  of  the  crowd  were  rare,  but  within  the  house 
the  applause  was  general  and  continued.  The  coup 
d^ceil  of  the  port  is  magnificent ;  all  the  ships  were 
hung  with  flags  and  fired  minute  guns,  to  which  the 
forts  replied.  The  whole  of  the  animated,  and,  despite 
its  discontent,  joyous  population,  the  variety  of  sounds, 
songs,  movements,  and  costumes,  presented  a  delight- 
ful sight.  We  were  particularly  struck  on  seeing  a 
southern  dance  executed  by  three  hundred  young  per- 
sons of  both  sexes,  in  small  brown  jackets,  blue  panta- 
loons, red  sashes,  straw  hats  turned  up  with  ribands 
and  flowers,  who,  guided  by  various  instruments,  and 
each  with  castanets  or  a  tambourine,  darted  forwards, 
united,  turned,  and  leaped  with  equal  rapidity  and 
elegance. 

"  Bayonne. — About  two  leagues  from  this  city  the 


LIFE  OP  JOSEPHDTB,  297 

Emperor  was  presented  with  a  spectacle  worthy  of 
him.  On  the  declivity  of  a  mountain  gently  scooped 
out  in  different  parts  of  its  descent,  is  pitched  one  of 
those  camps  which  the  foresight  of  the  country  has 
^provided  for  its  defenders.  It  is  composed  of  seven 
handsome  barracks,  different  in  form  and  aspect,  each 
isolated,  surrounded  with  an  orchard  in  full  bearing,  a 
well-stocked  poultry  yard,  and  at  different  distances,  a 
greater  or  less  quantity  of  arable  land,  where  a  diversity 
of  soil  yields  a  variety  of  produce.  One  side  of  the 
mountain  is  wild,  but  picturesque,  with  rocks  and 
plants ;  the  other  seems  covered  with  rich  tapestry,  so 
varied  and  numerous  are  the  plots  of  richly-cultivated 
ground.  The  summit  is  clothed  with  an  ever-verdant 
forest ;  and  down  the  centre,  in  a  deep  channel,  flows 
a  limpid  stream,  refreshing  and  fertilizing  the  whole 
scene.  On  this  spot  the  veterans  who  occupy  it  gave 
a  fdte  to  the  Emperor,  which  was  at  once  military  and 
rural.  The  wives,  daughters,  and  little  children  of 
these  brave  men  formed  the  most  pleasing,  as  they 
were  themselves  the  noblest,  ornament  of  the  festival. 
Amid  piles  of  arms  were  seen  beautiful  shrubs  covered 
with  flowers,  while  the  echoes  of  the  mountain  resound- 
ed to  the  bleating  of  flocks  and  the  warlike  strains  of 
a  soldiery  intoxicated  on  thus  receiving  their  chief 
The  Emperor  raised  this  enthusiasm  to  the  highest 
pitch  by  sitting  down  at  a  table  at  once  quite  military 
and  perfectly  pastoral,  and  drinking  with  these  bravo 
fellows  all  of  whom  had  risked  their  lives  in  his  ser- 
yice.    Toasts  were  given  to  all  that  does  honor  to  the 


298  LIFE  OF  JOSEPUIKE. 

French  name  — '  to  our  native  land ; '  '  to  glory ; '  '  to 
liberty.'  I  dare  not  mention  the  attentions  of  which 
I  was  the  object;  they  touched  me  deeply  ;  for  I  re- 
garded them  as  proofs  of  that  veneration  which 
France  has  vowed  to  the  Emperor. 

"  At  Bayonne  an  important  personage  waited  the 
Emperor's  arrival,  namely,  Don  Pedro  de  las  Torres, 
private  envoy  of  Don  Juan  Escoiquitz,  preceptor  of 
the  Prince  of  Asturias.  As  a  consequence  of  the 
events  of  Aranjuez,  this  latter  has  been  proclaimed 
under  the  title  of  Ferdinand  YII.;  but  the  old  King 
Charles,  from  whom  fear  had  extorted  an  abdication, 
now  protests  against  that  act.  The  new  monarch  pre- 
tends that  his  father,  led  by  the  queen,  who  is  in  turn 
the  puppet  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  never  has  had,  and 
never  can  have  a  will  of  his  own.  Meanwhile,  the 
nation,  taking  the  alarm,  is  divided  between  two  heads. 
If  one  party  reproach  Charles  with  being  wholly  devo- 
ted to  the  will  of  Manuel  Godoy,  the  other  imputes  to 
"Ferdinand  that  of  acknowledging  no  principles  of  ac- 
tion save  those  dictated  to  him  by  Don  Juan  Escoi- 
quitz. The  first,  haughty  and  impertinent,  as  are  all 
favorites,  keeps  his  master  in  bondage  and  the  peo- 
ple in  humiliation ;  the  second,  honey-tongued  and 
wheedling,  at  once  deceives  the  nation  and  enslaves 
his  pupil.  Both  have  caused,  and  still  cause  the  mis- 
fortunes of  Spain. 

"  "What  in  truth  can  be  more  deplorable  than  the 
respective  situation  of  the  governors  and  governed  ? 
The  former  are  without  confidence,  the  latter  without 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHLETB.  299 

attachment.  Amid  these  two  factions,  which  may  well 
be  termed  parricidal,  a  third  has  secretly  sprung  up, 
which  calculates  upon,  perhaps  encourages  their  mis- 
understanding, in  order  to  favor  the  triumph  of  liberty. 
But  is  ignorant  and  superstitious  Spain  prepared  to  re- 
ceive this  blessing?  With  her  haughty  nobles,  and 
bigoted  priesthood,  her  slothful  population,  how  can 
she  execute  an  enterprise  which  supposes  the  love 
of  equality,  the  practice  of  toleration,  and  an  heroic 
activity  ? 

"  These  are  things  which  the  Emperor  will  have  to 
consider.  He  is  appealed  to  by  all  parties  as  mediator : 
he  arrives  among  them  without  knowledge  of  them, 
and,  as  a  man,  feels  perfect  impartiality.  His  enlight- 
ened policy  will  take  counsel  of  necessity ;  and  in  thig 
great  quarrel,  of  which  he  is  constituted  umpire,  will 
reconcile  what  is  due  to  the  interests  of  France  with 
what  is  demanded  for  the  safety  of  Spain. 

"  This  same  Don  Pedro  de  las  Torres  has  not  been 
sent  without  his  errand.  Don  Juan,  his  patron,  knew 
that  he  possessed,  some  leagues  from  Bayonne,  an  ex- 
tensive farm,  on  which  are  bred  numerous  flocks  of 
merinoes.  Thither,  under  a  plausible  pretext,  we  wero 
conducted  to-day.  After  a  feast  of  really  rustic  mag- 
nificence, we  made  the  tour  of  the  possession  on  foot. 
At  the  bottom  of  a  verdant  dell,  surrounded  on  all  sides 
by  rocks  covered  with  moss  and  flowers,  all  of  a  sud- 
den a  picturesque  cot  appeared  lightly  suspended  on  a 
projecting  point  of  rock,  while  round  it  were  feeding 

between  seven  and  eight  hundred  sheep  of  the  most 
M* 


800  LIFE   OP   JOSEPHINE. 

beautiful  breed.  We  could  not  restrain  a  cry  of  ad- 
miration; and  upon  the  Emperor  addressing  him  in 
some  compliments,  Don  Pedro  declared  that  these 
flocks  belonged  of  right  to  me.  *  The  king,  my  master,' 
added  he,  '  knows  the  Empress's  taste  for  rural  occupa 
lions ;  and  as  this  species  of  sheep  is  little  known  in 
France,  and  will  constitute  the  principal  oi-nament,  and 
consequently  wealth  of  a  farm,  he  entreats  her  not  to 
deprive  herself  of  an  offering  at  once  so  useful  and  so 
agreeable.'  '  Don  Pedro,'  replied  the  Emperor,  with  a 
tone  of  severity,  '  the  Empress  cannot  accept  the  pres- 
ent save  from  the  hands  of  the  king,  and  your  master 
is  not  yet  one.  Wait,  before  making  your  offering,  un- 
til your  own  nation  and  I  have  decided.'  The  remain- 
der of  the  visit  was  very  ceremonious." 

At  Bayonne,  also,  they  met  the  Prince  of  Asturias, 
who  had  been  induced  to  cross  the  Bidassoa  in  the 
vain  hope  of  being  recognized  by  Napoleon  as  king  of 
Spain.  Such,  however,  were  not  at  all  the  Emperor's 
plans  ;  his  own  designs  upon  Spain  would  admit  of  no 
guch  course.  He  promptly  told  Ferdinand  that  he 
must  relinquish  the  throne.  Finding  him  less  tractable 
than  he  had  anticipated.  Napoleon  ordered  Murat  at 
Madrid  to  send  over  Charles  IV.  and  the  Queen  to 
Bayonne.  The  feuds  in  their  own  family,  and  in  the 
Spanish  government,  were  such  that  they  instantly 
obeyed,  and  meeting  Napoleon  they  threw  themselves 
at  once  and  entirely  upon  his  protection.  The  efforts 
of  Charles  and  the  Emperor  were  now  brought  to  bear 
upon  Ferdinand,  to  induce  him  to  resign  his  claims  to 


LIFB  OF  JOSKPHINB.  801 

the  snccession  of  the  Spanish  crown.  Charles  himself 
had  previously  abdicated  the  throne  in  favor  of  Fer- 
dinand, but  this  act  had  been  unrecognized  by  Napo- 
leon, and  it  was  now  regarded  as  void.  On  the  5th 
of  May,  Charles  renewed  his  abdication,  but  at  this 
time  giving  his  crown  to  Napoleon.  On  the  12th  of 
the  same  month,  Ferdinand  was  brought  to  a  renun- 
ciation of  all  his  claims,  thus  surrendering  to  Napo- 
leon the  full  title  to  the  inheritance  of  Arragon  and 
Castile. 

The  struggles  by  which  he  was  afterwards  compelled 
to  maintain  this  possession  belong  to  Napoleon's  rather 
than  to  Josephine's  history.  But  in  the  manoeuvrings 
which  were  carried  on  at  Bayonne  and  by  which  they 
were  gained,  Josephine  acted  her  full  part.  Her  bril- 
liant conversation  and  the  charms  of  her  person  won 
the  favor  of  the  Spanish  King.  Her  rare  elegance  and 
grace  captivated  the  heart  of  the  Spanish  Queen  ; 
while  her  remarkable  insight  into  character,  and  the 
readiness  with  which  she  detected  motives,  assisted 
Napoleon  much  in  influencing  Charles  and  Ferdinand. 
The  issue  was  doubtless  owing  mainly  to  the  finesse 
of  the  Emperor,  but  the  adroitness  of  Josephine  exert- 
ed no  feeble  influence  in  bringing  matters  to  a  success- 
ful termination,  Josephine  had  an  apprehension  of  the 
result  to  which  all  these  things  might  lead,  which  Na- 
poleon seems  never  to  have  entertained.  In  anticipa- 
ting the  consequences  of  any  great  undertaking,  her 
opmion,  if  it  diflfered  from  his,  was  very  likely  to  be  the 
safer  one.     It  was  at  least  so  in  the  present  case.     The 


302  LITE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

Emperor  never  believed  that  his  plans  could  fail.  As 
Josephine  once  said  of  him,  and  none  could  speak  from 
a  better  knowledge — "  Napoleon  is  pei'suaded  that  he 
s  to  subjugate  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  He  cher- 
ehes  such  a  confidence  in  his  star,  that  should  he  be 
abandoned  to-morrovsr  by  his  family  and  allies,  a  wan- 
derer and  proscribed,  he  would  support  life,  convinced 
that  he  should  yet  triumph  over  all  obstacles,  and  ac- 
complish his  destiny  by  realizing  his  mighty  designs." 
This  confidence,  if  it  enabled  him  to  realize  some  of 
his  plans,  certainly  prevented  him  from  seeing  the 
difficulties  which  would  attend  the  accomplishment  of 
others.  Josephine,  calm  and  unbiased,  looked  at  every 
possible  danger  and  formed  an  opinion  in  reference  to 
it,  in  many  cases,  far  more  accurately  than  Napoleon. 
In  the  present  instance,  had  he  taken  her  advice  he 
would  have  pursued  a  different,  and,  as  the  result 
showed,  a  wiser  course.  His  compact  with  Charles 
and  Ferdinand,  and  the  campaign  which  grew  out  of 
it,  were  the  first  steps  to  his  overthrow. 

Leaving  Bayonne  on  the  21st  of  July,  the  imperial 
pair  continued  their  journey,  visiting  Pau,  Tarbes,  Tou- 
louse, Montauban,  Bordeaux,  La  Vendee,  and  Nantes. 
Everywhere  they  were  received  with  the  greatest  fa- 
vor. Public  addresses,  congratulating  him  upon  his 
success,  and  applauding  his  benevolent  deeds,  met  the 
Emperor  in  every  city.  Citizens  flocked  to  meet  him, 
crowding  in  his  path,  and  hailing  him  as  the  liberator 
and  savior  of  their  country.  Old  men  tottered  forth 
to  catch  one  look  at  the  wonderful  Corsican,  who  strode 


•is 

LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINi;.  803 

SO  rapidly  to  eminence,  and  having  seen  him,  went 
again  to  their  homes,  contented  now  to  die.  Little 
children,  who  had  been  hushed  to  stillness  by  the  story 
of  his  battles,  cried  to  behold  him,  and  were  seen  in 
their  nurses'  arms  in  every  street  through  which  he 
passed.  His  whole  course  was  like  a  triumphal  pro- 
cession ;  and  he  perfectly  understood  how  to  avail  him- 
self of  it,  and  make  it  turn  to  his  future  advantage 
He  manifested  an  affability  and  interest  in  the  affairs 
of  the  common  people  which  delighted  them ;  and 
when  he  returned  to  Paris,  he  knew  that  he  could  rely 
on  the  entire  devotion  to  his  cause,  of  every  province 
through  which  he  had  journeyed. 

Josephine  evidently  seemed  to  have  enjoyed  this 
tour.  She  was  pleased  with  the  affection  with  which 
the  Emperor  was  received,  for  her  whole  heart  was 
still  his  own,  and  delighted  with  everything  which 
could  minister  to  his  pleasure  or  success.  Still,  she 
returned  to  Paris  more  fully  convinced  than  ever  that 
the  Emperor's  intentions  were,  when  a  convenient 
time  should  come,  to  set  her  aside  and  place  the  dia- 
dem which  she  wore,  upon  another  brow. 

It  is  singular,  that  this  same  journey,  which  opened 
to  Josephine  more  fully  Napoleon's  plans  concerning 
herself,  also  shed  a  stronger  light  upon  the  difficulty 
of  carrying  these  plans  into  execution.  The  proofs  of 
the  Empress's  goodness  and  attachment  were  displayed 
to  him  at  every  step  of  the  way,  and  he  had  never  seen 
them  so  fully  before,  because  they  had  never  before 
contrasted  so  beautifully  with  his  own  dark  designs. 


804  LIFB  OF  JOSEPHIITE. 

Without  a  murmur  she  had  left  St.  Cloud  at  his  bid- 
ding, and  had  endured  with  cheerfulness  the  change 
from  the  ease  of  a  palace  to  the  inconvenience  of  a 
journey,  long  and  hastily  provided  for,  finding  hourly 
satisfaction  in  the  thought  that  she  was  gratifying  him. 
She  had  cherished  him  under  all  the  weariness  of  the 
journey,  and  made  him  feel  that  every  joy  was  sweeter 
because  it  was  witnessed  by  her.  She  had  added  in 
this  tour  another  chain  around  his  heart,  which  he  felt 
it  would  be  difficult  to  break  when  he  put  her  away. 
And  he  remembered  his  lowly  fortunes  when  he  won 
his  bride,  and  the  assistance  she  had  rendered  in  bring- 
ing him  to  his  present  renown.  He  thought  of  his  ab- 
sence in  Egypt,  of  his  trials  and  apprehensions  there, 
and  then  he  reflected  that  every  fear  had  been  dis- 
pelled, and  every  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his  success 
removed  before  his  return,  chiefly  by  the  efforts  which 
Josephine  had  put  forth  in  his  behalf  He  recollected 
her  sacrifices  for  him,  and  how  many  personal  com- 
forts she  had  freely  given  up  to  advance  his  interests. 
The  vision  of  Josephine  as  Empress  also  rose  before 
him.  He  thought  of  her  talents  and  taste  ;  he  remem- 
bered the  grace  and  dignity  with  which  she  was  wont 
to  play  her  part  in  the  imperial  pageant.  He  heard 
over  and  again  the  murmur  of  admiration  which  was 
always  called  forth  at  her  approach.  All  these  he 
could  not  slight,  none  of  them  could  he  forget,  yet 
though  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  his  separation 
from  her  were  thus  increased  by  the  excursion  to  Ba- 
yonne,  his  purposes  for  taking  such  a  step  had  never 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHEfB.  305 

been  stronger  than  when  he  entered  the  capital  on 
their  return.  The  history  of  Bonaparte  is  pre-emi- 
nently that  of  one  in  whose  path  difficulties  only  ap- 
peared to  fan  the  flame  and  increase  the  strength  of 
the  desire,  which  they  seemed  to  oppose. 

The  Emperor  and  Josephine  reached  St.  Cloud 
early  in  August.  The  Emperor's  birthday  was  cele- 
brated a  few  days  afterwards*  with  unusual  rejoicings. 
The  acquisition  of  Spain  to  the  Great  Empire,  which 
was  supposed  to  have  been  accomplished  by  the  meas- 
ures taken  at  Bayonne,  gave  Bonaparte  greater  favor 
than  ever  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  Unconscious  of 
the  struggle  which  was  yet  to  ensue,  they  looked  only 
at  the  outward  appearance  of  the  picture,  and  believed 
that  the  great  idea  for  which  Louis  XIV.  had  labored, 
was  now  realized  by  the  force  of  Napoleon's  mightier 
genius.  Triumphal  arches  were  erected  in  honor  of 
him,  and  the  streets  through  which  he  passed  were 
strewed  with  flowers.  Every  bell  in  Paris  rung  out 
its  acclamations  in  honor  of  the  great  hero,  whose  suc- 
cess no  obstacle  could  check — whose  fame  no  rival 
that  the  world  had  produced,  could  now  eclipse.  Upon 
the  cause  of  all  these  rejoicings,  Josephine  looked  with 
distrust.  She  saw  that  the  acquisition  of  Spain  to  the 
French  empire  was  only  a  nominal  one,  and  though 
she  could  not  foresee  that  the  lives  of  a  million  of 
Frenchmen  were  yet  to  be  sacrificed  in  order  to  main- 
tain, it,  she  did  anticipate  fearful  results.  Our  task 
being  mainly  with  Josephine,  we  might  leave  all  far- 

*  N»poleoD  WW  born  August  16th,  1769. 


bO^  UFE   OF  JOSEPHIITE. 

ther  allusions  to  Spanish  affairs,  since  her  immediate 
connection  with  them  ceased  upon  her  return  to  the 
capital.  To  show,  however,  that  she  had  ground  for 
the  fears  which  she  cherished,  we  cannot  forbear  quot- 
ing in  this  connection  from  the  language  of  Napoleon 
himself,  made  years  afterwards,  when  the  hand  of  ad- 
versity had  hurled  him  from  his  eminence,  and  forced 
him  to  look  calmly  back  upon  the  varied  scenes  of  his 
wonderful  destiny.     He  thus  spoke  at  St.  Helena : — 

"  It  was  that  unhappy  war  in  Spain  which  ruined 
me.  The  results  have  irrevocably  proved  that  I  was 
in  the  wrong.  There  were  serious  faults  in  the  exe- 
cution. One  of  the  greatest  was  that  of  having  at- 
tached so  much  importance  to  the  dethronement  of 
the  Bourbons.  Charles  the  IV.  was  worn  out.  I 
might  have  given  a  liberal  constitution  to  the  Spanish 
nation,  and  charged  Ferdinand  with  its  execution.  If 
he  had  put  it  forth  in  good  faith,  Spain  would  have 
prospered,  and  put  itself  in  harmony  with  our  new 
constitutions ;  if  he  had  failed  in  the  performance  of 
his  engagements,  he  would  have  met  with  his  dismis- 
sal from  the  Spaniards  themselves.  '  Yra  are  about 
to  undertake,'  said  Escoiquiz  to  me,  '  on'  of  the  labors 
of  Hercules,  where,  if  you  please,  nrlhing  but  child's 
play  is  to  be  encountered.'  The  unfortunate  war  in 
Spain  proved  a  real  wound,  the  first  cause  of  the  mis- 
fortunes of  France.  If  I  could  have  foreseen  that  that 
affair  would  have  caused  me  so  much  vexation  and 
chagrin,  I  would  never  have  engaged  in  it.  But  after 
the  first  steps  were  taken  in  the  affair,  it  was  impossi- 


UPE  OP  JOSEPHINE.  307 

ble  for  me  to  recede.  When  I  saw  those  imbecilles 
quarrelling  and  trying  to  dethrone  each  other,  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  take  advantage  of  it  to  dispos- 
sess an  inimical  family ;  but  I  was  not  the  contriver 
of  their  disputes.  Had  I  Jcnown  at  the  first  that  the 
transaction  would  have  given  me  so  much  trouble,  I 
would  never  have  attempted  it." 

Josephine  was  now  again  to  be  alone.  Matters  of 
state  demanded  Napoleon's  absence  from  Paris,  and 
in  this  journey  he  chose  to  leave  the  Empress  at  St. 
Cloud.  On  the  21st  of  September,  he  set  out  to  meet 
the  Emperor  of  Russia  at  Erfurth,  ostensibly  to  renew 
the  treaty  of  amitj  to  which  they  had  sworn  at  Tilsit. 
It  was  a  matter  of  the  highest  importance  to  Bona- 
parte, that  Alexander  should  for  the  present  keep  the 
peace  which  now  existed  between  Russia  and  France. 
His  troubles  were  already  such  that  the  influence  of 
Alexander  might  have  made  the  scale  preponderate 
fearfully  against  him.  The  affairs  in  Spain  had  al- 
ready begun  to  assume  a  new  and  threatening  appear- 
ance. Austria  was  evidently  looking  only  for  a  favor- 
able opportunity  to  take  up  arms  against  France. 
Prussia  was  desirous  to  throw  off  the  yoke  which 
Napoleon  had  imposed  upon  her ;  the  Burschenschafts 
were  laboring  zealously  and  effectually  for  the  libera- 
tion of  Germany,  and  Holland  was  ready  to  take  up 
hostilities  at  a  moment's  warning.  All  this  Napoleon 
knew,  and  gave  all  his  efforts  to  dispel  the  blackening 
cloud  before  it  should  burst  in  a  resistless  storm  upon 
his  head.  20 


80B  LTFK  OF  iOSSPmSCE. 

He  reached  Erfurth  on  the  27th  of  September,  and 
found  Alexander  as  tractable  as  at  their  former  inter- 
view at  Tilsit.  The  Czar  himself  had  ambitious  de- 
signs, and  wished  the  assurance  that  his  French  ally 
would  not  interfere  with  his  attempts  upon  Turkey, 
Sweden  and  Finland.  Napoleon  was  very  ready  to 
promise  this,  upon  the  condition  that  his  own  transac- 
tions in  Spain  should  be  ratified,  and  that  he  should  be 
unmolested  in  his  farther  attempts  to  increase  his 
power.  These  matters  being  settled.  Napoleon  had 
another  scheme  which  in  his  view  was  full  as  impor- 
tant as  the  first.  He  renewed  to  Alexander  the  pro- 
posals which  he  had  formerly  hinted  at  Tilsit,  for  a 
matrimonial  alliance  with  the  impei'ial  family  of  Rus- 
sia. He  intended  to  enter  on  such  negotiations  when 
he  left  Paris,  and  if  this  was  not  the  chief  design  of  his 
journey,  it  was  at  least  his  chief  reason  for  making  it 
alone.  His  mind  was  now  fully  bent  upon  a  divorce, 
and  a  new  marriage,  and  the  house  of  Russia  seemed 
at  the  present  time  to  offer  him  the  most  eligible  con- 
nection. Alexander  saw  the  embarrassment  which 
would  ensue  should  such  an  alliance  be  consummated, 
and  when  a  direct  overture  was  made  to  him  for  the 
hand  of  one  of  the  Russian  Archduchesses,  he  declined 
the  proposal,  and  evaded  the  real  difficulty  by  alleging 
that  the  difference  in  their  systems  of  religion  offered 
an  insurmountable  obstacle  in  the  way  of  Kapoleon's 
desires.  Napoleon,  of  course,  penetrated  this  flimsy 
pretext  at  a  glance,  and  left  Erfurth  highly  indignant, 
though  he  manifested  no  outward  signs  of  displeasure. 


LIFB  OF  JOBEPEIita.  909 

It  was  of  the  first  importance,  that  he  should  keep  up 
friendly  relations  with  Russia,  and  he  therefore  pocket- 
ed an  indignity,  which  under  more  favorable  circum- 
stances he  would  have  terribly  revenged. 

Josephine  heard  of  all  these  transactions  at  St. 
Cloud,  though  Napoleon  had  not  as  yet  communicated 
to  her  a  word  upon  a  subject  which  so  deeply  affected 
the  hopes  and  happiness  of  her  life.  Her  pride  en- 
abled her  to  conceal  from  her  attendants  the  agitation 
of  her  spirit,  but  there  were  moments  of  bitter  anguish 
when  she  was  alone,  and  could  commune  unobserved 
with  the  secrets  of  her  own  heart.  Vague  rumors  of 
the  proposals  which  Napoleon  had  made  to  Alexander, 
had  floated  to  the  palace  and  were  commented  upon 
by  the  maids  of  honor,  who  wondered  that  the  step  of 
the  Empress  could  be  light,  and  her  smile  so  gay,  when 
they  knew  that  her  heart  was  breaking  under  the  bur- 
den of  sorrow.  Josephine  appeared  cheerful  and  even 
mirthful.  Her  daily  walks  were  made,  and  her  char- 
ities distributed  with  the  getjtleness  and  generosity 
which  had  always  characterized  her.  Her  favorite 
swan  was  not  for  a  day  unvisited ;  her  pet  gazelle  was 
never  denied  a  fond  caress.  She  had  a  smile  and  a 
kind  word  for  every  one;  and  whether  doing  the  hon 
ors  of  the  imperial  court,  or  attending  to  the  wants  of 
some  poor  pensioner  upon  her  bounty — whether  amid 
her  maids  of  honor  or  with  the  nobles  of  the  empire,  iri 
all  that  outward  circumstances  could  indicate,  she  was 
the  same  blithesome  being  as  before.  However  dark 
were  her  prospects,  she  still  hoped  on,  and  determined 


310  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIin?. 

to  labor  on,  knowing  that  the  sunshine  will  at  last 
melt  down  the  iceberg  whose  glittering  front  has  for 
centuries  stood  in  cold  defiance  of  its  beams.  When 
Napoleon  returned  to  St.  Cloud,  she  received  him 
with  her  usual  cordiality.  Both  she  and  the  Emperor 
had  chei'ished  suspicion,  and  repeatedly  manifested  this 
disposition  to  each  other;  but  Josephine,  though  she 
had  more  reason  to  indulge  the  sentiment  than  ever 
before,  felt  that  the  present  was  no  time  for  its  exhibi- 
tion. Napoleon,  also  apprehensive  of  giving  Josephine 
premature  indication  of  his  views,  was  unusually  af- 
fable and  attentive.  Thus  a  few  weeks  vanished, 
each  feeling,  but  neither  disclosing,  constraint  in  the 
other's  society  ;  till  Napoleon  having  opened  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Legislative  Body,  at  Paris,  with  great  pomp, 
left  Josephine  at  St.  Cloud  on  the  27th  of  October,  and 
hastened  to  clear  up  his  already  darkening  prospects 
in  Spain. 

Josephine  earnestly  desired  to  accompany  him  in 
this  expedition.  She  kaew  its  difficulties  and  perils, 
and  was  willing  to  brave  them  in  the  hope  of  allevi- 
ating them,  but  especially  from  the  desire  of  exerting 
the  spell  of  her  constant  influence  over  the  heart  of 
Napoleon.  Her  request  was  denied,  firmly,  but  with 
apparent  kindness.  The  Emperor  represented  to  her 
the  annoyances  to  which  she  would  be  constantly  sub- 
jected, and  pleaded  the  need  which  she  had  of  repose. 
She  assured  him  that  she  could  bear  the  trials,  and 
needed  no  rest ;  that  she  should  be  happier  amid  the 
privations  of  the  camp,  and  the  tumults  of  war,  by  his 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  811 

side,  than  alone,  with  all  the  pleasures  of  the  imperial 
palace  at  her  .command.  Napoleon  was  deeply  touch- 
ed with  this  exhibition  of  Josephine's  love,  yet  per- 
sisted in  his  refusal ;  for  his  resolution  once  taken  was 
never  reversed,  and  Josephine  bade  him  farewell  on 
the  27th  of  October,  then  retired  to  her  chamber  to 
weep,  in  secret,  tears  more  bitter  than  any  previous 
agony  had  made  to  flow. 

In  the  campaign  upon  which  he  now  entered,  Na- 
poleon found  enough  to  occupy  his  attention,  without 
proceeding  farther  with  his  plans  for  the  divorce  of 
Josephine.  All  Spain  was  alive  with  hostility.  In 
every  quarter  of  the  land,  from  Navarre  to  Andalusia, 
from  Catalonia  to  Gallicia,  the  voice  of  opposition  was 
swelling  loud  against  him.  The  notes  of  freedom  were 
echoed  from  every  mountain  and  "valley,  hamlet  and 
city,  in  tones  which  would  have  blanched  the  cheek 
and  shaken  the  heroism  of  any  ordinary  invader. 
The  Spanish  armies,  though  driven  from  the  plains, 
were  still  unconquered.  The  Alpine  nests  of  Asturias ; 
the  inaccessible  retreats  of  Gallicia;  the  rugged  ranges 
which  swept  between  the  Duero  and  the  Guadal- 
quivir; every  mountain  fastness,  from  the  Pyrenees 
to  the  Sierra  Nevada,  swarmed  with  sturdy  and  in- 
vincible defenders.  Ferdinand  VII.  had  been  pro- 
claimed sovereign  at  Madrid,  and  King  Joseph,  whom 
Napoleon  had  crowned,  hiid  been  driven  from  the  cap- 
ital, Toledo  had  risen  in  insurrection,  and  kindled  a 
flame  of  patriotic  resentment  against  France,  which 
spread  like  a  conflagration  throughout  the  Peninsula. 


813  LIFB  OF  joskphhtb. 

As  though  by  a  simultaneous  impulse,  the  citizens  of 
almost  every  town  in  Spain  were  ridding  themselves 
of  the  French  residents  by  a  terrible  butchery.  In 
Cadiz  and  Seville,  in  Carthagena  and  Valencia,  the 
streets  were  red  with  the  flow  of  blood.  The  French 
armies  had,  also,  met  with  untold  disasters.  After 
their  first  victory,*  the  tide  of  battle  had  everywhere 
turned  against  them.  Duhesme  had  been  forced  to 
shut  himself  up  in  Barcelona  by  the  brave  Catalonian 
mountaineers ;  Moncey,  who  had  attempted  the  siege 
of  Valencia,  had  been  beaten  back  from  its  walls  with 
slaughter  and  disgrace ;  Dupont  had  been  driven  suc- 
cessively from  Jaen,  and  Baylen,  to  Menjibar,  and  had 
at  last  been  forced  to  surrender  himself  and  his  men  as 
prisoners,  upon  the  most  humiliating  terms.  Lefebvre 
had  found  the  indomitable  zeal  of  the  Spaniards  proof 
against  all  his  attempts  upon  Saragossa,  and  had  at  last 
abruptly  abandoned  the  siege.  The  spirit  which  had 
in  days  of  old  lived  in  the  unconquerable  defenders  of 
Numantia  and  Saguntum,  seemed  everywhere  to  be 
breathed  again  into  the  breasts  of  their  heroic  de- 
scendants. As  if  the  efforts  and  successes  of  the 
Spaniards  were  not  enough  to  intimidate  the  French 
invaders,  a  source  of  fresh  anxiety  at  this  time  ap- 
peared in  another  quarter.  A  heavy  English  force 
had  landed  in  the  Peninsula,  and  was  now  moving  for- 
ward with  rapid  march  towards  the  scene  of  conflict. 
The  advance  guard  of  the  English  army  had  already 

♦  At  Riosecca.    This  battle  Tras  fought  on  the  14th  of  July,  and 
«ad«d  in  the  total  overthrow  of  the  united  Spani^  army. 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  S13 

crossed  the  Guadarrama  mountains,  when  Napoleon 
came  down  in  the  midst  of  the  French  host,  which  lay 
encamped  at  Vittoria.  His  eye  glanced  over  the 
whole  state  of  things  in  a  moment,  and  saw  that  not  an 
instant  was  to  be  lost.  His  plan  of  operations  was  im- 
mediately laid,  and,  with  the  energy  which  his  pres- 
ence never  failed  to  inspire,  was  carried  into  execution 
at  once.  The  immense  host,  which,  in  anticipation  of 
his  arrival,  he  had  collected  at  Vittoria,  was  instantly 
put  in  motion.  Marshals  Victor  and  Lefebvre,  with 
forty  thousand  men,  were  commanded  to  march  upon 
the  Spanish  troops  who  were  waiting  for  a  junc- 
tion with  the  approaching  English  army,  in  Biscay. 
Soult  was  ordered  to  put  to  rout  Count  de  Belvidere 
in  Estremadura,  while  Napoleon  himself,  taking  the 
main  strength  of  his  army,  hastened  with  the  rapidity 
and  resistlessness  of  an  avalanche  against  the  whole 
left  wing  of  the  Spanish  host,  as  it  lay  stretched  from 
Bilboa  to  Burgos.  Everywhere,  he  was  successful. 
The  Spanish  armies  melted  away  like  dew  before  him, 
and  the  fate  of  all  those  upon  the  Ebro  was  finally 
sealed,  almost  before  the  English  forces  had  heard  that 
Napoleon  had  arrived  in  Spain.  Following  up  his 
successes,  the  Emperor  marched  at  once  upon  Madrid, 
which  he  entered  upon  the  4th  of  December,  after  a 
stern  but  ineflectual  resistance.  Leaving  the  capital 
as  soon  as  he  had  established  his  authority  there,  and 
collecting  his  forces,  he  hurled  himself  with  resistless 
energy  upon  the  Britif-h  army,  which,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Sir  John  Moore,  had  already  retreated  to 


81*  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINB. 

Corunna,  The  battle  of  Corunna  took  place  on  the 
16th  of  January,  1809,  resulting  in  the  complete  dis- 
comfiture of  the  English,  and  the  acknowledgment, 
for  the  time,  of  Napoleon's  supremacy  over  Spain. 
Flushed  with  his  victories,  and  unable  to  foresee  the 
subsequent  disasters  for  which  they  opened  the  way, 
the  Emperor  left  the  command  of  the  French  battalions 
in  the  Peninsula  to  his  brother  Joseph,  and  then  hastily 
departed  for  Paris.  He  reached  St.  Cloud  on  the  23d 
of  January,  having  achieved  the  most  astonishing  re- 
sults in  a  campaign  of  but  little  over  two  months'  dura- 
tion. In  Bonaparte's  whole  course  he  was  constantly 
crowding  into  a  moment,  events  which  it  would  have 
taken  other  men  a  lifetime  to  have  brought  about.  He 
moved  over  the  earth,  as  a  meteor  flashes  across  the 
sky,  surprising  and  startling  men  by  the  suddenness 
and  splendor  of  his  career. 

But  little  of  the  time  which  Napoleon  now  spent  at 
the  palace  was  devoted  to  Josephine's  society ;  fresh 
cares  were  crowding  upon  him.  News  that  the  war 
in  Spain  was,  after  all,  still  undecided,  reached  his  ears, 
while  indications  that  Austria  was  designing  war  upon 
France,  were  becoming  distinct  and  authentic.  The 
Empress  was  more  neglected,  and  the  counsel  which 
Napoleon  had  heretofore  frequently  asked  in  reference 
to  his  plans,  was  now  rarely  sought.  This  was  un- 
noticed by  all  but  Josephine,  and  the  rumors  of  a 
divorce  were  less  common  than  formerly.  To  others, 
JNapoleon  appeared  uniformly  kind  towards  her,  and  in 
their  daily  intercourse  at  St.  Cloud,  or  in  their  occa- 


UFB  OF  JOSEPHIKE.  9UI 

sional  excursions  together  to  the  parks  of  Ranibouillet, 
his  cherished  purpose  was  not  anticipated  by  the  ordi- 
nary observer.  He  was  struggling  to  keep  from  Jose- 
phine the  knowledge  of  his  designs,  while  she  was  en- 
deavoring, as  constantly,  to  keep  him  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  she  fathomed  them  all.  While  this  double 
game  was  played,  neither  could  be  happy,  but  Jose- 
phine was  continually  seeking  his  society,  hoping, 
though  against  hope,  that  she  might  break,  for  once,  the 
iron  determination  of  Napoleon. 

It  was  almost  morning,  of  the  Kth  of  April,  that  a 
courier  came  dashing  to  the  palace  gates,  demanding 
instant  audience  of  the  Emperor.  Bonaparte,  who 
was  still  up,  tore  open  the  despatches  which  the  cou- 
rier laid  before  him,  and  read  with  a  flashing  eye  the 
tidings  that  Austria  had  broken  the  treaty  of  peace, 
and  that  Prince  Charles  was  already  marching  his 
legions  against  the  French  in  Bavaria.  As  usual,  his 
course  was  decided  instantly ;  and  hastily  proceeding 
to  the  apartments  of  the  Empress,  who  had  already  re- 
tired, he  broke  her  slumbers,  and  bade  her  be  ready  in 
two  hours  to  accompany  him  to  the  borders  of  Ger- 
many. Said  he,  "  You  have  played  the  part  of  Em- 
press long  enough ;  you  must  now  again  become  the 
wife  of  a  general.  I  leave  immediately  ;  you  will  go 
with  me  to  Strasburg."  This  was  the  first  intimation 
which  Josephine  had  received  that  it  was  the  Emperor's 
intention  that  she  should  accompany  him  on  his  con- 
templated Austrian  campaign.  As  ever,  however,  she 
unhesitatingly  obeyed  the  summons.  She  was  too 
N 


316  LIFE   OF  JOSBPHIWK. 

familiar  with  the  suddenness  of  Napoleon's  plans  to  be 
taken  with  surprise  by  any  new  movement,  and  was 
consequently  never  wholly  unprepared  for  an  unex- 
pectied  journey.  Before  three  o'clock  they  set  off 
from  St  Cloud.  Both  were  in  good  spirits.  Napoleon 
had  a  presentiment  that  he  sliould  conquer  the  Aus- 
trians,  and  Josephine,  after  having  been  denied  her  re- 
quest to  accompany  the  Emperor  to  Spain,  hailed  this 
privilege  as  a  mark  of  returning  favor.  The  idea  that 
he  could  be  defeated  seems  never  to  have  entered  Na- 
poleon's mind,  and  he  appenrjd  to  regard  the  Austrian 
outbreak,  as  only  a  new  opportunity  of  adding  to  his 
power.  His  destiny,  as  he  fancied,  was  leading  him 
on  another  stride  in  the  pathway  to  greatness.  He 
was  therefore  in  the  best  possible  humor,  and  his 
suavity  and  attentions  brought  back  to  Josephine  the 
glad  memories  of  other  days. 

Their  route  to  Strasburg  lay  through  Champagne 
and  Lorraine,  embracing  some  of  tlie  finest  regions  in 
France.  The  valleys  of  the  Mame  and  Meuse,  en- 
chanted the  travellers  with  their  lovely  scenery  and 
agricultural  wealth.  Napoleon  was  well  pleased  to  see 
the  marks  of  thrift  and  industry  dis^Jayed  on  every 
hand,  for  he  could  expect  from  these  fresh  fev.pplies  for 
his  coffers  and  conscript  rolls.  A  pleasing  incdent  in 
this  journey  illustrates  the  character  of  both.  On  leav- 
ing  one  of  the  villages  in  Lorraine,  Josephine  called  his 
attention  to  an  old  woman  who  was  kneeling  on  the 
steps  of  the  chapel,  bathed  in  tears.  Her  grief  touched 
^e  heart  of  the  Empress,  who  sent  for  her,  and  bade 


LIPB  OF  JOSEPHHTE.  9%% 

her  tell  the  cause  of  her  sadness.  Said  she,  "  My  kind 
friends,  my  poor  grandson  Joseph  has  been  included  in 
the  conscription,  and  for  nine  days  have  I  come  here 
regularly  to  make  my  neuvaine  that  he  might  draw  a 
good  lot ;  and  that  which  he  has  drawn  bears  the  num- 
ber 4.  Thus  I  lose  not  only  my  grandson,  but  my 
prayers  also.  Nor  is  this  all ;  my  eldest  son's  daughter 
is  about  to  marry  one  of  our  neighbors,  named  Michael ; 
and  Michael  now  refuses  to  marry  her,  on  account  of 
Joseph,  her  brother,  being  in  the  conscription.  Should 
my  son  conclude  to  procure  a  substitute  for  poor 
Joseph,  why,  then  adieu  to  Julie's  dowry,  for  he  would 
give  her  nothing ;  and  that  dowry  is  to  be  six  hundred 
francs  in  cash."  "Very  good,  take  that,"  said  the 
Emperor — sending  her  a  bank  note.  "  You  will  find  a 
thousand  to  supply  his  place  for  that  amount.  I  want 
soldiers,  and  for  that  purpose  I  encourage  marriages." 
Josephine  was  also  so  much  interested  in  the  story,  thai 
when  she  amved  at  Strasburg,  she  sent  Julie  a  rich 
bridal  present.  This  incident  illustrates  the  kindness 
which  was  always  active  in  the  Empress,  and  which 
was  not  a  stranger  to  Napoleon's  heart. 

At  Strasburg,  on  the  confines  of  France  and  Ger- 
many, Bonaparte  left  Josephine  and  hurried  on  to 
Frankfort,  and  the  scene  of  action.  The  faithful  Em- 
press would  have  joyfully  accompanied  him  on  his 
way,  but  refusing  his  assent,  she  was  left  behind  to 
watch  the  progress  of  the  campaign,  the  event  of  which 
was  to  have  so  decisive  an  influence  upon  her  own 
happiness. 


318  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINB. 

In  addition  to  the  ladies  of  her  court  who  attended 
her  at  Strasburg,  Hortense  and  her  children,  the  Queen 
of  Westphalia,  and  the  Princess  Stephanie  contributed 
by  their  presence  to  remove  the  gloom  of  her  separa- 
tion. In  the  society  of  these,  she  passed  a  few  pleasant 
weeks  at  Strasburg,  when  a  messenger  from  Paris 
summoned  her  thither  as  regegt  of  the  Empire  again, 
during  Bonaparte's  absence.  She  returned  to  St. 
Cloud,  and  amid  scenes  of  former  enjoyment  dreaded 
each  day  more  deeply  the  fatal  blow,  which  from  the 
progress  of  affairs  in  Austria,  she  perceived  was  inevi- 
table, and  which  was  to  sever  the  strongest  ties  forever. 

To  understand  more  fully  the  denouement  of  Jose- 
phine's strange  destiny,  we  must  now  recur  to  Napo- 
leon in  his  present  campaign.  Like  those  of  previous 
dates,  this  was  a  series  of  brilliant  successes.  He 
found  upon  his  arrival  in  the  camp  that  his  army  was 
in  disorder,  and  that  the  important  plans,  which  he 
had  left  an  incompetent  Marshal*  to  carry  out,  had 
been  only  partially  put  in  execution.  His  forces  had 
been  scattered  in  various  directions,  under  the  misera- 
ble pretext  of  keeping  in  check  several  trifling  divisions 
of  the  Austrian  host,  while  Prince  Charles  with  the 
main  body  of  his  force  was  already  occupying  the 
field.  On  the  17th  of  April,  he  arrived  in  the  French 
camp  at  Donauworth,  and  instantly  began  his  work, 
unfatigued  by  the  journey,  or  undismayed  by  the  pros- 
pects before  him.  As  rapidly  as  possible  he  collected 
his  scattered  soldiers,  and  took  up  his  line  of  march  for 

~         *  Berthier. 


*-» 


*       LIFE   OF  JOSEPHLNB.  819 

Vienna.  At  Abensberg,  at  Eckmuhl,  and  at  Ratisbon, 
the  Austrians,  who  attempted  in  great  strength  to 
block  up  his  path,  were  totally  routed,  and  Prince 
Charles  was  forced  to  cross  the  Danube  with  the  rem- 
nant of  his  army,  thus  leaving  Napoleon  an  unobstruct- 
ed way  to  the  capital.  He  continued  his  course  as 
rapidly  as  he  commenced  it,  and  after  a  short  struggle, 
on  the  12th  of  May,  his  armies  entered  and  took 
possession  of  Vienna.  The  tidings  of  these  successes 
were  borne  to  Josephine,  and  received  by  her  with 
gratitude  ;  but  a  new  scene  in  the  drama  was  soon  to 
appear.  The  imperial  family  of  Austria,  with  one 
exception,  had  hastily  left  the  capital,  to  save  them- 
selves from  the  hands  of  the  conqueror.  The  Arch- 
duchess, Maria  Louisa,  daughter  of  the  Emperor  Fran- 
cis II.,  alone  remained,  and  met  with  becoming  dignity 
the  possessor  of  her  father's  throne,  at  SchoDnbrunn  * 
It  is  possible  that  Napoleon,  when  refused  a  matri- 
monial alliance  with  Russia,  had  determined  to  seek 
Buch  a  connection  with  Austria  ;  it  is,  at  least,  certain, 
that  this  was  in  contemplation  when  he  entered  upon 
his  present  campaign.  When  the  Archduchess  was 
presented,  his  choice  was  made,  and  with  his  natural 
impetuosity,  he  at  once  paid  his  court  and  addresses  to 
her.  The  haughty  daughter  of  the  Cajsars  heard  his 
offers  calmly,  but  refused  to  compromise  her  dignity  in 
the  slightest  degree.     She  told  him  it  was  no  time  then 

*  ThU  chateau  was  built  by  Maria  Tlieresa,  in  1164,  and  is  distant 
only  a  mile  from  Vienna.  Maria  Louisa  preferred  it  to  all  the  palaces 
of  her  father. 


820  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHIKB. 

to  listen  to  his  vows,  and  demanded  protection  for 
herself,  and  safety  for  her  fugitive  family.  Napoleon 
left  her,  resolved  that  the  war  should  not  cease  till  the 
Emperor  of  Austria  was  forced  to  surrender  to  him 
this  beautiful  prize. 

All  this  was  borne  to  Josephine  upon  the  wings  of 
the  wind.  Her  private  couriers  told  her  of  the  youth 
and  charms  of  the  Archduchess,  and  exaggerated  the 
influence  which  they  were  exerting  over  Bonaparte. 
Then  followed  the  bulletin  of  battle.  The  tide  of  war 
was  again  swelling  to  its  flood,  and  the  heart  of  the 
devoted  Empress  forgot  its  jealousy  in  the  apprehen- 
sion for  a  husband's  safety.  Now  his  star  was  in  the 
ascendant — then  it  seemed  to  sink,  and  again  it  rose 
in  glory,  and  blazed  with  a  brighter  splendor  than  be- 
fore. Napoleon  was  triumphant — the  campaign  was 
ended — a  treaty  of  peace  had  been  signed — and  the 
conqueror  of  another  empire  was  again  on  his  return 
to  France. 

Austria  was  completely  humbled,  but  yet  the  terms 
upon  which  peace  was  made,  were  so  favorable  to  her 
that  all  Europe  was  astonished.  Napoleon  was  not 
accustomed  to  show  undue  liberality  when  matters  of 
this  kind  were  at  his  entire  disposal,  but  in  the  present 
instance,  he  had  allowed  Austria  to  retain  nine  millions 
of  square  miles  of  her  territory,  while  he  only  took  for 
France  a  few  small  provinces,*  and  had  given   her 

*  These  were  Trieste,  the  districts  of  Caraiola,  Friuli,  the  circle 
of  Yillacb,  and  small  parts  of  Croatia,  and  Dahratia,  embracing  about 
two  hundred  thousand  square  miles. 


LIFE  OP  JOSEPHHTE.  321 

peace,  upon  conditions  which  still  left  her,  next  to 
France  and  Russia,  the  most  formidable  power  upon 
the  continent.  It  was  said  at  the  time,  and  with  great 
probability,  that  the  reason  for  these  remarkable  con- 
cessions lay  in  the  contemplated  matrimonial  alliance 
between  Bonaparte  and  the  house  of  Hapsburg  ;  though 
the  statement  that  his  marriage  was  one  of  the  secret 
articles  in  the  treaty  of  peace,  was  afterwards  denied 
by  Napoleon. 

On  the  16th  of  October,  Bonaparte  left  Scha3nbrunn ; 
at  Munich,  he  stopped  and  despatched  a  courier  to  the 
Empress  at  St.  Cloud,  apprising  her  that  he  should 
arrive  at  Fontainebleau  on  the  27th,  and  directing  the 
court  to  proceed  thither  to  receive  him.  So  rapid, 
however,  was  his  progress,  that  he  reached  Fontaine- 
bleau at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  2Gth,  and  of 
course  found  no  preparations  made  for  his  reception. 
This  threw  him  into  a  rage,  though  he  could  not  have 
forgotten  that  his  arrival  was  a  day  earlier  than  he  had 
fixed,  and  cursing  their  tardiness,  ordered  a  courier  to 
gallop  immediately  to  St.  Cloud,  and  announce  to  the 
Empress  his  arrival.  Fontainebleau  is  forty  miles 
distant,  and  it  was  one  o'clock  before  Josephine  re- 
ceived the  intelligence.  Aware  of  the  Emperor's 
disposition,  she  set  off  hastily,  with  a  feeling  of  dismay, 
fearing  he  might  charge  the  consequences  of  his  own 
haste  upon  her. 

Towards  evening,  Josephine  arrived ;  Bonaparte 
was  writing  in  his  library,  and  when  an  attendant 
told  him  the  Empress  had  come,  he  took  no  notice  of 


822  LITE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

the  announcement.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  failed 
to  welcome  her  after  absence,  and  not  only  Josephine, 
but  all,  marked  so  strange  a  mood.  Inquiring  after 
him,  the  Empress  ran  to  the  library,  threw  open  the 
doors,  and,  unheralded,  stepped  forward  to  greet  him. 
At  her  first  salutation,  the  Emperor  raised  his  eyes, 
and  without  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  her  a  look  that 
was  like  the  touch  of  death.  "  Ah !  so  you  are  come, 
madam,"  said  he.  "  'Tis  well ;  I  was  just  about  to  set 
out  for  St.  Cloud."  Josephine  attempted  to  answer, 
but  her  emotions  choked  her,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 
Was  this  the  reception  which  was  to  requite  her  love, 
her  fears  for  his  safety,  her  eiforts  for  his  success  ? 
As  she  stood  sobbing  there.  Napoleon's  heart  smote 
blm,  and  rising,  he  apologized  for  his  rudeness.  "  For- 
give me,"  he  said,  tenderly  embracing  her — "I  own 
I  was  wrong.  Let  us  be  friends  again."  Josephine 
was  ready  for  a  reconciliation,  but  she  could  not  at 
once  dry  her  tears.  Retiring  to  dress,  they  flowed 
afresh,  and  for  several  moments  she  freely  indulged 
them.  What  meant  his  coldness,  and  then  his  return- 
ing favor  ?  Was  his  kindness  real,  or  did  he  show  it 
only  to  give  her  a  false  hope,  as  the  boa  is  said  to 
loosen  its  folds  and  look  brightly  in  the  eye  of  its  vic- 
tim, as  a  prelude  to  the  last  struggle  ? 

When  Josephine  and  the  Emperor  again  met,  it  was 
with  mutual  smiles,  and  apparent  cordiality.  Each 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  previous  misunderstand- 
ing, and  mainly  desirous  of  treating  the  other  with 
afTection.     It  was  not  many  days,  however,  before  the 


LIFK.OF  JOSEPHINB.  823 

attendants  saw  tokens  of  alienation.  The  manners  of 
the  Emperor  towards  Josephine,  assumed  a  formaUty, 
and  those  of  the  Empress  towards  him,  betrayed  an 
unusual  constraint.  It  was  evident  that  something 
had  ruffled  the  tide  of  their  domestic  happiness.  Their 
time  was  spent  mostly  at  Fontainebleau,  interspersed 
with  occasional  visits  to  the  capital.  When  at  Paris, 
everything  appeared  in  its  accustomed  way,  and  Jose- 
phine was  ever  glad  of  a  pretext  which  called  them 
there,  for  at  the  palace  life  was  irksome  and  full  of 
disquiet.  Napoleon  had  told  her  that  she  stood  in  the 
way  of  his  prosperity,  that  he  needed  not  only  an  heir, 
but  that  to  render  his  power  stable,  he  must  seek  an 
alliance  with  one  of  the  great  reigning  houses  of  Eu- 
rope, that  she  lay  as  ever  near  his  heart,  but  bade  her 
ask  herself  the  question,  if  it  would  be  a  pleasing  re- 
flection, that  the  great  empire  to  whose  formation  she 
had  essentially  contributed,  was  to  crumble  away  at 
his  death.  "  What  a  glorious  sacrifice,"  he  would  say, 
"  you  can  make,  not  only  to  myself  but  to  our  empire." 
Josephine  would  answer  sometimes  by  tears,  then  by 
supplications,  and  again  by  arguments,  to  which  even 
Napoleon  could  not  reply.  She  would  appeal  by  turns 
to  his  generosity,  to  his  former  love,  and  to  his  super- 
stition. She  would  talk  to  him  of  that  mysterious  in- 
fluence which  had  bound  them  together,  and  against 
which  he  might  not  rashly  sin.  "  See  there,"  said 
she  to  him,  one  starlight  evening,  as  they  sat  alone  at 
a  window  of  the  palace,  —  "  Bonaparte,  behold  that 
bright  star ;  it  is  mine !  and  remember,  to  mine,  nut  to 
21  N* 


324  LTFB   OF  JOSEPHINE, 

thine,  has  sovereignty  been  promised.     Separate,  then, 
our  fates,  and  your  star  fades !" 

Nothing,  however,  could  swerve  the  Emperor  from 
his  purpose,  and  Josephine  saw  from  day  to  day,  that 
her  influence  over  him  was  declining.  It  was  a  hu- 
miliating thought  to  her,  that  her  attendants  noticed 
this,  and  even  her  waiting-maids  had  already  begun 
to  regard  her  in  the  light  of  a  repudiated  wife.  "  In 
what  self-constraint,"  said  she,  "did  I  pass  the  period 
during  which,  though  no  longer  his  wife,  I  was  obliged 
to  appear  so  to  all  eyes !  Ah !  what  looks  were  those 
which  the  courtiers  suffered  to  fall  upon  me."  The 
private  passage-way  between  her  apartments  and  the 
Emperor's  had  been  closed  by  his  orders,  and  the  free 
and  joyous  intercourse  which  they  had  frequently  held 
together  seemed  past  forever.  A  dark  shadow  rested 
over  the  path  of  Josephine,  and  she  moved  slowly  for- 
ward into  its  ever  deepening  obscurity,  groping  for 
light  amid  the  chaos  of  happiness  which  once  was 
hers.  The  language  of  her  thoughts  was,  as  our  Eng- 
lish poet  expressed  it, 

"  Like  the  lily, 
Tkat  once  was  mistress  of  the  field,  and  flourish'd, 
m  hang  my  head,  and  parish." 

Bonaparte  endeavored  to  act  his  part  without  be- 
traying his  emotion,  but  it  was  in  vain.  The  strono- 
man  who  had  smiled  in  the  face  of  danger  and  death, 
trembled  as  he  drew  near  the  closing  scenes  of  this 
strange  drama.  Some  have  represented  him  as  ap- 
pearing to  act  a  comedy,  and  pass  with  perfect  calm- 


LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE.  1^ 

ness  through  the  ordeal ;  but  this  is  only  an  outside 
view  of  the  picture.  It  was  no  farce  that  made  Napo* 
leon  Bonaparte  weep  in  his  chamber,  while  his  wh61e 
frame  shook  with  the  emotions  which  were  wildly 
struggling  in  his  breast.  But  the  iron  hand  of  destiny 
was  upon  him,  destiny  which  had  impelled  him  on  in 
the  career  of  glory,  and  still  pointed  to  a  brighter  emi- 
nence beyond — and  he  could  not  resist  it.  He  looked 
before  him,  but  the  abyss  which  was  already  yawning 
at  his  feet  was  covered,  and  like  a  bed  of  flowers,  upon 
which  his  star  shone  undimmed.  The  die  was  cast, 
his  resolution  was  irrevocably  taken,  and  though,  while 
he  should  carry  it  into  action,  clouds  might  gather 
upon  his  sky,  they  would  roll  away,  leaving  his  path 
the  clearer  and  brighter,  in  contrast  with  a  transient 
eclipse. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  November,  that  he  formally 
announced  his  purposes  to  Josephine.  He  had  previ- 
ously urged  her  to  consent  to  the  divorce,  but  had 
never  before  positively  told  her  that  she  must  cease  to 
be  his  wife.  Upon  this  day,  dinner  had  been  served 
as  usual,  to  which  the  Emperor  and  Empress  sat 
down.  Josephine  had  been  weeping  all  the  morning, 
and  to  conceal  the  tears  which  were  still  falling,  she 
appeared  at  the  dinner-table,  wearing  a  head-dress 
which  completely  shaded  the  upper  part  of  her  face. 
The  dinner  was  one  merely  of  form.  The  viands 
were  brought  on  and  removed,  but  neither  Josephine 
nor  Bonaparte  tasted  the  luxuries  or  uttered  a  word 
Once  or  twice  their  eyes  met,   but  were   instantly 


93%  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

averted,  each  fearing  to  read  the  look  which  revealed 
the  spirit's  struggle.  Josephine  saw  that  her  sun-light 
had  passed  away,  and  felt  that  the  storm  would  quickly 
spend  its  wrath  upon  her. 

The  dinner  ceremony  concluded,  the  Emperor  rose, 
and  Josephine  followed  him  mechanically  into  the  ad- 
joining saloon.  Napoleon  ordered  all  the  attendants 
to  retire,  and  for  a  few  moments  they  were  alone,  and 
both  were  silent.  Josephine  instinctively  apprehended 
her  fate,  but  as  she  watched  the  changing  expression 
of  Bonaparte's  countenance,  and  read  through  these 
the  struggles  of  his  soul,  a  single  ray  of  hope  darted 
athwart  the  gloom.  Would  he,  could  he  cast  her 
away  ?  But  all  hope  fled  as  she  saw  his  features  set- 
tle into  a  look  of  stern  resolve,  and  her  spirit  sank 
within  her,  for  she  knew  that  her  hour  had  come. 
Approaching  her  with  trembling  steps,  the  Emperor 
gazed  at  her  for  a  moment,  then  took  her  hand  and 
laid  it  upon  his  heart,  as  he  said — "  Josephine !  my 
good  Josephine,  you  know  how  I  have  loved  you ;  it 
is  to  you,  to  you  alone,  that  I  owe  the  few  moments 
of  happiness  I  have  known  in  the  world.  Josephine, 
my  destiny  is  more  powerful  than  my  will ;  my  dear- 
est affections  must  yield  to  the  interests  of  France." 
"  Say  no  more,"  said  the  Empress  ;  "  I  expected  this  ; 
I  understand  and  feel  for  you,  but  the  stroke  is  not  the 
less  mortal.'*'  Josephine  stopped;  she  tried  to  say 
more,  but  the  appalling  vision  of  her  doom  choked  her 
utterance.  She  endeavored  to  command  her  feelings, 
but  they  were  too  strong  to  be  restrained,  and  sobbing 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  9^ 

out,  "  Oh,  no,  you  cannot  surely  do  it ! — ^you  would  not 
kill  me  ?" — she  sunk  upon  the  floor,  overcome  with  the 
weight  of  her  calamity.  Napoleon,  alarmed  for  her 
safety,  threw  open  the  doors  of  the  saloon  and  called 
for  help.  The  court  physician  was  instantly  sum- 
moned, and  committing  the  hapless  Empress  to  his 
care,  the  author  of  her  misery  shut  himself  up  in  his 
cabinet,  with  feelings  known  only  to  Him,  whose  Om- 
niscient eye  "searches  the  hearts  of  the  children  of 
men." 

Josephine  remained  in  her  swoon  for  three  hours. 
Again  and  again,  the  Emperor  came  to  inquire  after 
her,  and  would  hang  over  her  couch  with  an  expres- 
sion of  the  deepest  anxiety.  Corvisart,  the  physician, 
and  Hortense,  watched  eagerly  for  tokens  of  returning 
animation ;  but  when  the  Empress  opened  her  eyes 
again  in  consciousness,  it  was  with  a  look  so  full  of 
sadness,  that  those  who  stood  around,  almost  wished 
that  she  could  then  bury  her  sorrows  in  the  forgetful- 
ness  of  death. 

"I  cannot  describe,"  she  afterwards  writes,  "the 
horror  of  my  condition  during  that  night !  Even  the 
mterests  which  he  affected  to  take  in  my  sufferings, 
seemed  to  me  additional  cruelty.  Oh,  mon  Dieul 
how  justly  had  I  reason  to  dread  becoming  an  Em- 
press !"  When  she  recovered,  she  made  no  effort  to 
change  Napoleon's  resolution,  but  simply  expressed  to 
him  her  acquiescence.  A  day  or  two  afterwards  she 
vyrote  the  following  letter  to  the  Emperor,  which,  as  it 


828  LIFE  OF  JOSEPHIKK. 

illustrates  her  peculiar  feelings  in  relation  to  this 
event,  we  have  inserted : 

"  My  presentiments  are  realized.  You  have  pro- 
nounced the  word  which  separates  us  ;  the  rest  is  only 
a  formality.  Such  is  the  reward — ^I  will  not  say  of  so 
many  sacrifices,  (they  were  sweet,  because  made  for 
you,) — but  of  an  attachment  unbounded  on  my  part, 
and  of  the  most  solemn  oaths  on  yours.  But  the  state, 
whose  interests  you  put  forward  as  a  motive,  will,  it  is 
said,  indemnify  me,  by  justifying  you  !  These  inter- 
ests, however,  upon  which  you  feign  to  immolate  me, 
are  but  a  pretext ;  your  ill-dissembled  ambition,  as  it 
has  been,  so  it  will  ever  continue,  the  guide  of  your 
life — a  guide  which  has  led  you  to  victories  and  to  a 
throne,  and  which  now  urges  you  to  disasters  and  to 
ruin. 

"You  speak  of  an  alliance  to  contract — of  an  heir  to 
be  given  to  your  empire  —  of  a  dynasty  to  be  founded ! 
But  with  whom  do  you  contract  that  alliance  ?  With 
the  natural  enemy  of  France — that  insidious  house  of 
Austria — which  detests  our  country  from  feeling,  sys- 
tem, and  necessity.  Do  you  suppose  that  the  hatred 
BO  many  proofs  of  which  have  been  manifested,  espe- 
cially during  the  last  fifty  years,  has  not  been  trans- 
ferred from  the  kingdom  to  the  empire ;  and  that  the 
descendants  of  Maria  Theresa,  that  able  sovereign, 
who  purchased  from  Madam  Pompadour  the  fatal 
treaty  of  1756,  mentioned  by  yourself  only  with  hor- 
ror ;  think  you,  I  ask,  that  her  posterity,  while  tl^y 
inherit  her  power,  are  not  animated  also  by  her  spirit? 


LTFB  OF  JOSEPHINB.  829 

I  do  nothing  more  than  repeat  what  T  have  heard  from 
you  a  thousand  times ;  but  then  your  ambition  h'mited 
itself  to  humbling  a  power  which  now  you  propose  to 
elevate.  Believe  me,  so  long  as  you  shall  be  master 
of  Europe,  Austria  will  be  submissive  to  you;  but 
never  know  reverse ! 

"  As  to  the  want  of  an  heir,  must  a  mother  appear 
to  you  prejudiced  in  speaking  of  a  son  ?  Can  I — ought 
I  to  be  silent  respecting  him  who  constitutes  my  whole 
joy,  and  on  whom  once  centered  all  your  hopes  ?  The 
adoption  of  Eugene  was,  then,  a  political  falsehood? 
But  there  is  one  reality,  at  least ;  the  talents  and  vir- 
tues of  my  Eugene  are  no  illusion.  How  many  times 
have  you  pronounced  their  eulogium !  What  do  I  say  ? 
Have  you  not  deemed  them  worthy  the  possession  of  a 
throne  as  a  recompense,  and  often  said  they  deserved 
more?  Alas!  France  has  repeated  the  same;  but 
what  to  you  are  the  wishes  of  France  ? 

"  I  do  not  here  speak  of  the  person  destined  to  suc- 
ceed me,  nor  do  you  expect  that  I  should  mention  her. 
Whatever  I  might  say  on  the  subject  would  be  liable 
to  suspicion.  But  one  thing  you  will  never  suspect — 
the  vow  which  I  form  for  your  happiness.  May  that 
felicity  at  least  recompense  me  for  my  sorrows.  Ah  I 
great  it  will  be  if  proportionate  to  them !" 

The  Empress  was  not  a  woman  that  yielded  to 
despair,  though  to  appear  cheerful,  or  even  calm,  at 
this  time,  cost  her  a  struggle  that  shook  the  throne  of 
reason.  But  she  was  Empress  still,  and  while  her 
moments  of  solitude  were  consumed  in  weeping  and 


880  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINE. 

unavailing  regret,  she  lost  none  of  her  dignity  or  ease 
when  subjected  to  the  curious  gaze  of  the  officers  of 
the  court,  or  the  ladies  who  had  a  more  immediate  ac- 
cess to  her  person.  She  even  went  to  Paris,  and  pre- 
sided at  some  of  the  splendid  fetes  given  in  honor  of 
Napoleon's  late  victories ;  but  in  all  her  movements, 
no  one  detected  a  step  less  light,  an  air  less  gay,  a  mien 
less  commanding,  than  had  distinguished  her  in  the 
palmiest  days  of  her  imperial  happiness.  Hortense 
was  at  Fontainebleau  when  Napoleon  made  his  an- 
nouncement to  the  Empress,  and  Eugene  left  Italy  and 
hastened  to  cheer  his  mother  by  his  presence,  as  soon 
as  the  first  tidings  of  her  calamity  reached  him.  Both 
of  her  children  desired  immediately  to  withdraw  from 
farther  association  with  Napoleon.  Eugene  tendered 
his  resignation  as  viceroy  of  Italy,  and  asked  to  be  ex- 
-jncused  from  future  service.  Said  he,  "  The  son  of  her 
who  is  no  longer  Empress,  cannot  remain  viceroy.  I 
will  follow  my  mother  into  her  retreat.  She  must  now 
find  her  consolation  in  her  children."  Napoleon  was 
much  affected  at  this  declaration,  and  urged  Eugene 
not  to  relinquish  hastily  his  honors.  He  told  him  that 
it  was  necessity,  and  not  inclination,  which  urged  the 
sacrifice  of  Josephine ;  that  he  still  loved  her,  and  lav- 
ished the  same  affections  upon  her  children  as  before. 
"  Should  you  leave  me; "  said  he,  "  and  should  I  have  a 
son,  who  would  watch  over  the  child  when  I  am  ab- 
sent ?  If  I  die,  who  will  prove  to  him  a  father  ?  who 
will  bring  him  up  ?  who  is  to  make  a  man  of  him  ?' 
Josephine  also  heroically  pleaded  Napoleon's  requesL 


LIFB  OF  JOSEPHIKB.  8S1 

«  The  Emperor,"  said  she  to  Eugene,  "  is  your  bene- 
factor, your  more  than  father,  to  whom  you  are  in- 
debted for  everything,  and,  therefore,  owe  a  boundless 
obedience."  History  hardly  shows  a  stronger  instance 
of  self-denying  devotion  than  that  which  the  Empress 
exhibited  during  the  whole  of  these  scenes.  She  be- 
came willing  to  sacrifice  all  her  interests — to  leave  the 
proudest  throne  the  world  could  then  boast,  and  lay 
her  crown  at  his  feet  who  had  bestowed  it  upon  her ; 
to  see  all  her  hopes  Either,  and  mourn  over  the  be- 
reavement of  her  tenderest  affections — willing  to  give 
up  everything  could  she  advance  the  glory  of  Napo- 
leon. This  was  the  goal  of  her  changeful  existence. 
The  trial,  though  severe,  was  met  and  sustained.  With 
heroic  fortitude  she  looked  into  the  gulf  before  her,  and 
with  calmness  stepped  forward  to  meet  her  fate.  True, 
there  were  moments  when  the  heart  would  rise,  when 
the  fountains  of  sorrow  would  overflow ;  but  she  strug- 
gled resolutely  against  these  emotions,  and  before  the 
day  of  separation  arrived,  she  could  talk  of  the  event 
with  Eugene  and  Hortense  with,  apparently,  perfect 
composure. 

That  "  fatal  day"  was  not  to  be  averted.  It  came, 
and  notwithstanding  her  previous  fortitude,  the  blow 
fell  with  a  crushing  weight  upon  her  soul.  A  stupor, 
as  though  death  were  fastening  his  arrow  in  her  heart, 
came  over  her.  She  was  the  gay  and  lovely  Josephine 
no  longer.  She  lost  the  self-control  which  she  had 
with  so  much  conflict  gained,  and  was  again  a  weak, 
broken-hearted   woman,   helpless  and  comfortless;  a 


332  LITE  OF  JOSEPniNE. 

vine  reaching  forth  in  vain  its  tendrils  for  the  sup- 
port whence  it  was  rudely  torn. 

The  15th  of  December  had  been  announced  as  the 
day  for  the  intended  separation.  IsTapoleon  had  caused 
to  assemble  at  the  Tuilleries  the  different  members  of 
his  own  family,  the  Arch-chancellor  of  France,  and  all 
the  high  officers  of  state  who  composed  the  imperial 
council.  It  was  a  magnificent  assembly,  but  each 
countenance  wore  a  shade  of  gloom,  as  if  some  terrible 
blow  were  impending  over  the  dearest  prospects  of 
every  heart.  !:»[ apoleon  first  addressed  them  and  told 
them  the  object  of  his  calling  them  together.  "  The 
political  interests  of  my  monarchy,"  said  he,  "  the 
wishes  of  my  people,  which  have  constantly  guided  my 
actions,  require  that  I  should  leave  behind  me,  to  heirs 
of  my  love  for  my  people,  the  throne  on  which  Provi- 
dence has  placed  me.  For  many  years  I  have  lost  all 
hopes  of  having  children  by  my  beloved  spouse,  the 
Empress  Josephine ;  this  it  is  which  induces  me  to 
sacrifice  the  sweetest  affections  of  my  heart,  to  con- 
sider only  the  good  of  my  subjects  and  desire  a  disso- 
lution of  our  marriage.  Arrived  at  the  age  of  forty 
years,  I  may  indulge  a  reasonable  hope  of  living  long 
enough  to  rear,  in  the  spirit  of  my  own  thoughts  and 
disposition,  the  children  with  which  it  may  please 
Providence  to  bless  me.  God  knows  what  such  a  de- 
termination has  cost  my  heart !  but  there  is  no  sacri- 
fice which  is  above  my  courage  when  it  is  proved  to 
he  for  the  best  interests  of  France.  Far  from  having 
any  cause  of  complaint,  I  have  nothing  to  say  but  in 


LIFE   OF  JOSEPHDTK.  838 

piaise  of  the  attachment  and  tenderness  of  my  beloved 
wife.  She  has  embellished  fifteen  years  of  my  life — ■ 
the  remembrance  of  them  will  be  forever  engraven  on 
my  heart  ;  she  was  crowned  by  my  hand :  she  shall 
retain  always  that  rank  and  the  title  of  Empress :  but, 
above  all  let  her  never  doubt  my  feelings  or  regard  me 
but  as  her  best  and  dearest  friend." 

The  sweet  but  faltering  tones  of  Josephine's  voice 
struck  a  chord  of  sympathy  in  every  heart,  as  she  thus, 
with  great  dignity,  replied — "  I  respond  to  all  the  senti- 
ments of  the  Emperor,  in  consenting  to  the  dissolution 
of  a  marriage,  which  henceforth  is  an  obstacle  to  the 
happiness  of  France,  by  depriving  it  of  the  blessing  of 
being  one  day  governed  by  the  descendants  of  that 
great  man,  evidently  raised  up  by  Providence  to  efface 
the  evils  of  a  terrible  revolution,  and  restore  the  altar, 
the  throne,  and  social  order.  But  his  marriage  will  in 
no  respect  change  the  sentiments  of  my  heart;  the 
Emperor  will  ever  find  in  me  his  truest  friend.  I  know 
what  this  act,  cominanded  by  policy  and  exalted  inter- 
ests, has  cost  his  heart ;  but  we  both  glory  in  the  sacri- 
fices which  we  make  to  the  good  of  the  country.  I 
feel  elevated  in  giving  the  greatest  proof  of  attachment 
and  devotion  that  was  ever  given  upon  earth."  When 
she  had  finished,  the  Empress  was  assisted  out  of  the 
apartment,  but  the  exercises  of  the  day,  from  which 
she  was  drinking  such  draughts  of  bitterness,  were  not 
yet  brought  to  a  close.  Again  had  the  imperial  family 
and  chief  nobles  of  the  realm  assembled,  all  iu  grand 
costume,  to  witness  the  final  consummation.     A  decree 


994  LIFE  OF  JOSEPmiTK. 

of  the  Senate  had  been  obtained,  proclaiming  the 
divorce,  and  all  that  was  now  necessary,  was  that  it 
receive  the  signatures  and  seals  of  the  parties  to  be 
separated.  Napoleon  wore  a  hat  whose  sweeping 
plumes  mostly  concealed  his  face,  but  an  observer 
could  still  read  in  his  countenance  traces  of  deep  emo- 
tion. He  stood  with  his  arms  crossed  upon  his  breast, 
motionless  and  speechless.  A  writing  apparatus  of 
gold  lay  upon  a  small  table  in  the  midst  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  before  it  an  arm-chair  was  placed,  waiting 
the  entrance  of  the  Empress.  The  door  opened  and 
Josephine,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Hortense,  came  slowly 
forward.  For  a  moment  she  gave  an  involuntary  shud- 
der, and  paused  while  her  lustrous  eye  ran  over  the 
face  of  every  one  present,  as  though  she  had  now  for 
the  first  time  gained  a  full  apprehension  of  her  doom. 

"  She  stood,  as  stands  the  stricken  deer 
Check'd  midway  in  the  fearful  chase, 
When  bursts  upon  his  eye  and  ear 
The  gaunt,  gray  robber  baying  near 
Between  it  and  its  resting-place — 
While  still  behind,  with  yell  and  blow, 
Sweeps,  like  a  storm,  the  coming  foe." 

It  was,  however,  but  for  a  moment,  and  proceeding 
forward  she  seated  herself  in  the  chair  at  the  table,  and 
listened  to  the  decree  of  the  council  which  completed 
the  separation  between  herself  and  the  object  of  her 
warmest  affections.     The  decree  was  as  follows : — 

"  Art.  I.  The  marriage  contracted  between  the  Em- 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHINB.  885 

peror  Napoleon  and  the  Empress  Josephine,  is  dis- 
solved. 

Art.  II.  The  Empress  Josephine  shall  preserve  the 
title  and  rank  of  Empress  Queen  Crowned. 

Art.  III.  Her  allowance  is  fixed  at  an  annual  pay- 
ment out  of  the  public  treasury. 

Art.  IV.  Whatever  provision  the  Emperor  shall 
make  in  favor  of  the  Empress  Josephine  out  of  the 
funds  belonging  to  the  civil  list,  shall  be  obligatory 
upon  his  successors. 

Art.  V.  The  present  Senatus  consultum  shall  be 
transmitted  by  a  message  to  her  imperial  and  royal 
majesty." 

Josephine  listened  to  this  decree,  but  the  warm  tears 
fell  like  rain  from  her  quivering  lids.  Rising  from  her 
chair,  she  pronounced  the  oath  of  acceptance  with  a 
tremulous  voice,  and  then  overcome  with  emotions, 
sank  again  into  her  seat.  Count  Regnaud  de  St.  Jean 
d'Angely  placed  the  pen  in  her  hand,  with  which  she 
signed  the  fatal  decree.  The  deed  was  done,  but  oh, 
with  what  a  heaving  heart  did  that  martyr  lay  down 
the  pen,  and  look  up  to  catch  one  glance  of  love  from 
the  stern  countenance,  which,  pale  and  motionless  as 
that  of  a  statue,  was  turned  full  upon  her.  With  one 
convulsive  sob  she  rose,  and  leaning  again  upon  the 
arm  of  Hortense,  left  the  apartment  no  longer  the  wife 
of  Bonaparte. 

Eugene,  who  had  been  an  agonized  spectator  of  tho 
whole  scene,  followed  her  closely,  but  his  emotions  were 
too  strong  for  his  sensitive  nature  to  endure.     He  had 


886  IJPE   OF  JOSEPHINE. 

hardly  left  the  saloon  before  he  fainted  and  fell,  com- 
pletely  overcome  by  his  anguish. 

Josephine  shut  herself  up  in  her  apartment,  whert 
the  sorrow  of  her  soul  could  be  unseen  by  human  eye 
She  had  nerved  herself  for  the  issue,  had  for  days  beer 
steeling  her  heart  to  composure,  but  when  the  blow 
fell,  she  bowed  like  a  reed  before  the  tempest.  It  was 
in  vain  that  she  assumed  tranquillity,  the  tide  of  feeling 
swept  its  barriers.  At  night  she  sought  a  last  inter- 
view with  Napoleon.-  He  had  retired  to  rest  when, 
with  eyes  swollen  and  red  from  weeping,  Josephine 
entered  the  apartment.  She  threw  open  the  door  but 
stopped,  as  she  saw  the  Emperor,  doubtful  whether  to 
advance  or  retire.  A  throng  of  emotions — delicacy, 
love — the  consciousness  that  she  had  no  longer  any 
right  there,  and  an  unwillingness  to  leave  without  an 
adieu,  struggled  in  her  breast.  Napoleon,  dismissing 
his  servant  in  waiting,  rose  and  clasped  the  Empress 
in  his  arms,  and  for  a  few  moments  they  were  locked 
in  each  other's  embrace,  silently  mingling  their  tears 
together.  Josephine  remained  with  him  an  hour,  and 
then  parted  from  the  man  who  had  won  and  broken 
her  heart.  Her  sobs  told  what  a  weight  of  sorrow  still 
rested  upon  her  spirit  as  she  left  the  apartment,  but 
the  bitterness  of  death  had  passed. 

And  another  trial  was  in  store  for  her.  The  next 
morning  she  was  to  leave  the  Tuilleries,  and  bid  adieu 
to  scenes  sacred  to  the  memory  of  happiest  years.  At 
eleven  o'clock  an  officer  of  the  guard  entered  her  room, 
and  told  her  that  he  had  orders  to  conduct  her  to  Mai- 


LIFE    OF   JOSEPHIXK.  837 

maison.  Silently  she  prepared  to  obey  the  summons, 
but  paused  to  weep  again,  when  she  thought  of  what 
she  had  sacrificed  and  what  she  was  to  leave.  To  add 
to  her  sadness,  the  whole  household,  who  were  tenderly 
attached  to  her,  assembled  together  on  the  stairs  and 
in  the  vestibule  through  which  she  was  to  pass,  anxious 
to  catch  one  last  look  at  their  martyr  mistress,  "  who 
carried  with  her  into  exile  the  hearts  of  all  that  had 
enjoyed  the  happiness  of  access  to  her  presence." 
The  expressions  of  their  grief  as  they  met  her  ears, 
were  too  much  for  the  heart  of  Josephine.  She  would 
have  stopped  and  taken  them  each  by  the  hand,  but 
she  knew  if  she  had  hesitated  now,  a  delirium  of  grief 
would  lay  her  a  helpless  victim  at  their  feet.  She 
leaned  upon  one  of  her  ladies,  and  moved  on  with 
mournful  step,  more  tremulously  and  wearily  than  the 
unfortunate,  but  faithful  Beauharnais,  had  trod  the 
floor  of  the  guillotine.  A  carriage  stood  at  the  gates, 
an  officer  assisted  her  up  the  steps,  and  pausing  to  take 
a  farewell  gaze  at  the  scenes  of  past  greatness  and  de- 
parted happiness,  she  veiled  a  face  whose  two-fold  ex- 
pression of  resignation  and  sorrow,  made  it  indescriba- 
bly touching  and  lovely ;  and  was  borne  away  forever 
from  the  palace  consecrated  by  her  presence,  to  the 
empire  of  virtue  and  aflfection. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Josephine's  EEnREireNr  and  sorrow. — her  residence  at  malmaison 

AND     NAVARRE. MARIA     LOUISA. N.VIIO.NAL     JOT     AT     THE      BIRTH      OK 

yOUNO  NAPOLEON. — CONGR.VIX'L.VTIOXS  OF  JOSEPHINE. — INCIPENTS  OF 
LIKE  AT  NAVARRE. BOXAPAUTe's  CAMPAIGN  TO  RU.SSIA. HIS  DISAS- 
TERS.  ^TIIE    FIDELITY    OF    JOSEPHINE. LETTER.S. NAPOLEON    ABDICATES 

THE      THRONE. JOSEl^INE    RECEIVES   THE    HOM.\GE    AND   SYMPATUV    OK 

THE     GREAT. HER     LAST     ILLNESS     AND     DEATH. FUNERAL. — SUMMARY 

OK   HER   CHABACTER. 

Josephine  returned  to  Malmaison,  the  mansion 
which  twelve  years  before  she  entered  as  the  bride  of 
Napoleon,  and  where  she  had  passed  the  happiest 
hours  of  life,  now  heart-broken  and  desolate.  She 
struggled  vainly  to  calm  the  agitation  of  her  unof- 
fending spirit,  that  forced  the  tears  like  rain  from  her 
swollen  eyes,  and  to  hide  the  agony  written  in  unmis- 
takable lines  upon  her  meek  and  mournful  face. 
Though  past  middle  age,  she  was  still  youthful  in  ap- 
[:earance,  and  seemed  the  very  angel  of  sorrow,  smil- 
ing through  the  grief  and  gloom  of  her  great  calamity  ; 
the  more  distressed,  because  others  were  sad  on  her 
account.  Every  object  that  she  looked  upon  remind- 
ed her  of  the  varied  ^ast,  her  prx;sent  humiliation,  and 
A  joyless  future.  Her  favorite  walks  were  no  more 
taken  for  refreshment  or  pleasure,  but  became  the 
Lours  of  weeping,  while  every  apartment  of  that  villa. 


LITE  OF  JOSEPHTCnB).  889 

chosen  and  embellished  by  her  taste,  presented  to  her 
eye  some  trace  of  the  man  whose  ambition  crushed 
her,  or  gave  back  to  her  imagination  an  echo  of  his 
familiar  voice.  It  was  not  simply  that  her  divorce  was 
unjust,  and  her  pride  wounded  by  so  rudely  taking 
from  her  brow  a  crown  she  had  not  sought,  but  her 
affections  were  torn  from  their  object  and  bleeding — 
she  was  spurned  from  a  heart  that  had  won  her  owui 
and  loved  deeply  in  turn — and  all  to  gratify  an  in- 
satiate thirst  for  power  and  permanent  fame.  None 
but  those  who  hate  striven  to  conceal  the  throes  of 
anguish  which  almost  brought  tears  of  blood,  can 
sympathize  with  this  uncomplaining  sufferer  during 
the  months  that  succeeded  her  separation  from  Na- 
poleon. 

Still  her  residence  was  the  resort  of  the  distingue, 
and  often  presented  scenes  of  gayety  similar  to  those 
of  the  royal  palace.  The  drawing-rooms  were  ele- 
gantly  furnished,  and  the  furniture  adorned  with  em- 
broidery wrought  by  Josephine  and  the  ladies  of  her 
court,  in  previous  years.  The  apartment  Bonaparte 
had  occupied  v/as  untouched  from  the  tinie  he  left  it, 
excepting  the  dusting  by  her  own  hand.  She  kept  the 
key  and  guarded  its  contents  sacredly  as  the  relics  of 
a  consecrated  temple.  The  volume  of  history  lay 
where  he  closed  it,  with  a  leaf  turned  down  to  the 
place  of  perusal — a  pen  was  beside  it,  and  a  map  of 
the  world  which  he  used  to  spread  before  him  and 
mark  out  his  course  of  conquest,  and  show  his  con- 
clave of  confidential  friends  the  comprehensive  plant 
23  O 


340  LIFE  OF  JOSKPHINB. 

of  action  he  had  designed.  His  camp-bed,  arms  laid 
aside,  and  apparel  thrown  off  carelessly  where  he 
changed  it,  were  undisturbed.  No  intruder  entered 
this  silent  room,  which  to  Josephine  was  a  haunted 
spot — where  she  could  give  unchecked  indulgence  to 
her  bitter  woe,  and  sit  in  a  wild  reverie,  unbroken  by 
the  curious  gaze  or  words  of  condolence. 

Her  personal  arrangements  at  this  time  were  all 
becoming  and  simple.  The  only  costly  piece  of  fur- 
niture she  added  to  her  own  chamber  was  the  splen- 
did toilet  service,  made  of  gold,  which  she  left  behind 
her  in  the  palace,  but  which  Napoleon  sent  to  her, 
with  other  valuable  articles  she  refused  to  take  as  pri- 
vate property.  The  Empress  desired  now  an  unos- 
tentatious life — an  exterior  worthy  of  her  rank,  yet 
within  this  a  quiet  and  secluded  home  in  harmony 
with  her  subdued  and  wounded  spirit,  A  letter  ad- 
dressed to  her  superintendent,  displays  her  taste  and 
refinement  of  feeling. 

"Profit  by   my   absence,   dear   F ,    and   make 

haste  to  dismantle  the  pavilion  of  the  acacias,  and  to 
transfer  my  boudoir  into  that  of  the  orangery.  I 
should  wish  the  first  apartment  of  the  suite,  and  which 
serves  for  an  ante-room,  to  be  painted  light  green, 
with  a  border  of  lilacs.  In  the  centre  of  the  panels 
you  will  place  my  fine  engravings  from  Esther,  and 
under  each  of  these  a  portrait  of  the  distinguished 
generals  of  the  Revolutions.  In  the  centre  of  the 
apartment  there  must  be  a  large  flower-stand  con- 
stantly filled  with  fresh  flowers  in  their  season,  and  in 


UFX  07  JOSxpRnrs.  841 

each  angle  a  bust  of  a  French  philosopher.  I  partic- 
ularly mention  that  of  Rousseau,  which  place  between 
the  two  windows,  so  that  the  vines  and  foliage  may 
play  around  his  head.  This  will  be  a  natural  crown, 
worthy  of  the  author  of  Emile.  As  to  my  private 
cabinet,  let  it  be  colored  light  blue,  with  a  border  of 
ranunculus  and  polyanthus.  Ten  large  engravings.  ' 
from  the  Gallery  of  the  Mus6e,  and  twenty  medallions,  >' 
will  fill  up  the  panels.  Let  the  casements  be  painted 
white  and  green,  with  double  fillets  gilded.  My  piano, 
a  green  sofa,  and  two  chaises  longues,  with  corre- 
sponding covers,  a  secretaire,  a  small  bureau,  and  a 
large  toilet-glass,  are  articles  you  will  not  forget.  In 
the  centre,  place  a  large  table  always  covered  with 
freshly  gathered  flowers ;  and  upon  the  mantje-shelf  a 
simple  pendule,  two  alabaster  vases,  and  double- 
branched  girandoles.  Unite  elegance  to  variety  ;  but 
no  study,  no  profusion.  Nothing  is  more  opposed  to 
good  taste.  In  short,  I  confide  to  you  the  care  of  ren- 
dering this  cherished  spot  an  agreeable  retreat,  where 
I  may  meditate — sleep,  it  may  be — but  oftenest  read ; 
which  says  sufficient  to  remind  you  of  three  hundred 
volumes  of  my  small  edition." 

Many  persons  of  rank  from  St.  Cloud  frequented 
this  abode  of  elegance,  because  they  knew  it  gratified 
Napoleon,  whose  affection  still  clung  to  Josephine. 
From  nine  o'clock  till  midnight,  all  the  phases  of  life 
at  court  were  witnessed  here,  while  savans  were  not 
only  regular  guests,  but  in  the  circle  of  the  Empress' 
warmest  friends.     The  pencil  and  lyre  were  scarcely 


842  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHlNi:. 

ever  absent  from  her  apartments,  while  Canova,  then 
in  his  glory,  adorned  the  galleries  with  the  creations 
of  his  genius,  or  by  his  presence  enhanced  the  pleasure 
of  conversation  in  the  saloons. 

Several  months  were  spent  in  this  manner  at  Mal- 
naison,  her  sadness  unbroken,  however  brilliant  the 
social  aspect;  when  a  change  of  residence  brought 
diversion  to  her  thoughts,  and  in  proportion  to  this 
effect,  a  relief  to  her  mental  gloom.  The  chosen  spot 
was  Navarre,  once  a  kingly  palace,  and  celebrated 
for  its  extensive  and  beautiful  park,  its  winding  and 
crystal  streams,  transparent  lakes,  and  fairy  lawns. 
The  chateau  was  in  the  bosom  of  the  forest  of  Evreux, 
whose  grand  old  trees  locked  their  arms  around  it,  and 
whose  shadowy  aisles  ran  in  diverging  lines  into'  the 
solemn  twilight.  But  the  Revolution  had  not  spared 
this  magnificent  seat ;  it  was  a  splendid  wreck.  Tan- 
gled shrubbery  had  usurped  the  mounds  where  flowers 
had  bloomed,  the  streams  were  filled  with  fallen 
branches,  and  the  lakes  stagnant  with  mouldering 
vegetation.  To  restore  the  departed  grandeur  and 
beauty  was  Josephine's  new  employment,  which  was 
a  double  source  of  delight,  in  furnishing  entertainment 
to  herself,  and  a  means  of  benevolence  in  the  labors 
of  the  poor  peasantry.  Bonaparte  gave  her  a  million 
of  francs,  or  forty-one  thousand  pounds  sterling,  on 
her  retirement,  as  part  of  her  allowance,  which  she 
devoted  entirely  to  this  object.  Soon  the  wilderness 
of  decay  "  blossomed  as  the  rose ;"  the  waters  sparkled 
and  murmured  along  their  channels,  and  slumbered 


LIFS  OF  JOSEPHIMB.  843 

in  their  boundaries  fringed  with  foliage — the  sunny 
slopes  were  gay  with  flowers,  and  the  wide  fields  alive 
with  the  laborers,  who  were  grateful  for  toil,  if  it  pur- 
chased bread.     In  the  centre  of  this  miniature  kinji- 

o 

dom,  the  ex-Ernpress  lived  more  secluded  than  before, 
and  consequently  more  in  unison  with  her  taste. 
There  was  less  parade,  and  fewer  guests,  but  more 
freedom  and  greater  intimacy  of  friendship.  A  quota- 
tion is  subjoined,  which  gives  with  a  minuteness  sim- 
ilar to  a  former  description,  the  order  of  domestic 
affairs. 

"  At  ten  o'clock  breakfast  was  served ;  and  it  was 
the  duty  of  the  ladies  and  chamberlains  in  attendance 
to  be  in  the  saloon  to  receive  her  majesty,  who  was 
exact  to  a  minute  in  all  such  arrangements.  '  I  have 
never,'  she  used  to  say,  '  kept  any  one  waiting  for  me, 
half  a  minute,  when  to  be  punctual  depended  on  my- 
self. Punctuality  is  true  politeness,  especially  in  the 
great.'  From  the  saloon  the  Empress  immediately 
passed  into  the  breakfast-room,  followed  by  her  court, 
according  to  their  rank ;  naming  herself  those  who 
were  to  sit  on  her  right  and  left.  Both  at  breakfast 
and  dinner  the  repast  consisted  of  one  course  only, 
everything  except  the  dessert  being  placed  on  the 
table  at  once.  The  Empress  had  five  attendants  be- 
hind her  chair,  and  those  who  sat  down  with  her,  one 
each.  Seven  officials  of  different  ranks  performed  the 
ordinary  service  of  the  table.  After  breakfast,  which 
was  never  prolonged  beyond  three  quarters  of  nn  hour 
the  Empress,  with  her  ladies,  retired  to  a  long  room 


\ 

844  LITE   OF   JOSEPHIXE. 

named  the  gallery,  adorned  with  pictures  and  statues, 
and  commanding  a  beautiful  prospect,  where  they 
continued  to  employ  themselves  in  various  elegant  oi 
useful  works,  while  the  chamberlain  in  attendance 
read  aloud  to  the  party.  At  two,  when  the  weather 
permitted,  the  ladies  rode  out  in  three  open  carriages, 
each  with  four  horses,  Madam  d'Arberg,  lady  of  honor, 
one  of  the  ladies  in  waiting,  and  a  distinguished  visitor 
always  accompanied  the  Empress.  In  this  manner 
passed  two  hours  in  examining  improvements,  and 
freely  conversing  with  every  one  who  desired  any- 
thing, when  the  party  returned,  and  all  had  the  dis- 
posal of  their  time  tilh  six  o'clock,  the  hour  of  dinner. 
This  repast  concluded,  the  evening,  till  eleven,  was 
dedicated  to  relaxation,  the  Empress  playing  at  back<^ 
gammon,  piquet,  or  casino  with  the  personages  of  her 
household,  or  guests  whom  she  named  for  that  honor, 
or  conversing  generally  with  the  whole  circle. 

"  The  younger  ladies,  whether  members  of  the  house- 
hold or  visitors,  of  whom  there  were  always  several, 
often  many,  whose  education  Josephine  thus  comple- 
ted by  retaining  them  near  her  person,  usually  ad- 
journed to  a  small  saloon  off'  the  drawing-room,  where 
a  harp  and  a  piano  invited  either  to  music  or  the  dance 
under  the  control  of  some  experienced  matron.  Some- 
times, however,  this  slight  restraint  was  forgotten,  and 
the  noise  of  the  juvenile  party  somewhat  incommoded 
their  seniors  in  the  grand  apartment.  On  these  occa- 
sions, the  lady  of  honor,  who  had  the  charge  of  the 
whole  establishment,  and  was,  moreover,  a  strict  dis- 


LIFB  OF  josbphhte.  845 

cipUnarian,  would  hint  the  necessity  of  repressing  the 
riot ;  but  Josephine  always  opposed  this.     '  Suffer,  my 
dear  Madam  d'Arberg,'  she  would  say,  •  both  them  and 
us  to  enjoy,  while  we  may,  that  delightful  innocency  of 
mirth  which  comes  from  the  heart  and  goes  to  the 
heart.'     At  eleven,  tea  was  served,  and  the  visitor* 
retired ;  but  the  Empress  generally  remained  for  ao 
hour  longer,  conversing  with  her  ladies.     '  These  con 
versations,'  says  one  who  frequently  bore  a  part  in 
them,  '  afforded  the  best  means  of  judging  of  the 
strength  of  her  understanding,  and  the  goodness  of  hei 
heart.     She  loved  to  give  herself  up,  without  reserve, 
to  the   pleasure  of  this  confidential  intercourse,  but 
would  sometimes  check  herself  in  the  midst  of  an  in- 
teresting recital,  observing,  '  I  know  that  everything  I 
say  is  reported  to  the  Emperor,  a  circumstance  ex- 
tremely disagreeable,  not  in  itself  so  much,  as  in  the 
consequent  restraint  which  it  imposes.'     Napoleon,  in 
fact,  had  intelligence  within  a  few  hours  of  everything 
which  was  done  or  said  at  Malmaison  and  Navarre. 
I  know  not  that  the  member  of  our  circle  who  thus 
played  the  spy  was  ever  suspected,  but  certain  it  is, 
such   an  official  existed.     On  this  subject,  we  may 
remark,  that  the  same  system  prevailed  at  St.  Cloud 
and  the  Tuilleries  ;  but  what  was  most  singular,  besides 
the  regular  police,  established  by  Napoleon  and  Jose- 
phine for  mutual  surveillance,  some  one  member  of  the 
court  had  gratuitously  assumed  the  office  of  secret 
reporter.     Within  a  few  hours  the  Emperor  or  Em- 
press received  information  of  whatever  had  occurred 


\ 

*#t0  LIFE  OP  JOSBPHINE. 

of  a  peculiar  nature  in  the  conduct  of  either,  which  the 
one  might  be  deemed  desirous  of  concealing  from  the 
other.  These  communications  came  by  the  ordinary 
letter  office  attached  to  the  palaces,  were  evidently  by 
the  same  hand,  and  yet  the  writer  remained  unde- 
tected." 

Yet  Josephine  felt  not  a  thrill  of  joy  amid  all  this 
change,  unless  upon  receiving  words  of  love  from 
Napoleon,  or  at  the  gladness  of  others — the  words  of 
inspiration  were  deeply  her  experience  :  "  Every  heart 
knows  its  own  bitterness  I"  There  is  nothing  more 
sad  in  life's  changes,  than  the  suffering  of  the  innocent 
for  the  guilty  ;  the  unuttered  grief  of  a  bosom  another 
has  robbed  of  hope — the  slow  death  of  one  who  has  a 
wounded  spirit.  But  such  are  the  woes  that  make-the 
pastime  of  half  the  world.  The  millionaii-e  rides  in  a 
gilded  chariot  bought  with  the  gains  that  made  tears 
fall  like  rain — the  man  with  a  little  brief  authority 
walks  unmoved  upon  the  prostrate  form  of  another 
whom  he  fears  or  hates — and  in  a  thousand  homes, 
woman  is  a  secluded  martyr  to  the  vice  and  caprice  of 
a  heartless  ruffian. 

To  Josephine,  this  view  of  earth,  after  the  completed 
work  of  desolation,  which  banished  her  from  St.  Cloud, 
became  naturally  the  habitual  one,  as  expressed  in  a 
letter  to  Bonaparte : 

"  Sire, — I  received,  this  morning,  the  welcome  note 
which  was  written  on  the  eve  of  your  departure  for 
St.  Cloud,  and  hasten  to  reply  to  its  tender  and  affec- 
tionate contents.     These  indeed,  do  not  in  themselves 


LIFE  OF  JOSEFHIMl!:.  347 

surprise  me;  but  only  as  being  received  so  early  as 
fifteen  days  after  my  establishment  here  ;  so  perfectly 
assured  was  I  that  your  attachment  would  search  out 
the  means  of  consoling  me  under  a  separation  neces- 
sary to  the  tranquillity  of  both.  The  thought  that  your 
care  follows  me  into  my  retreat  renders  it  almost 
agreeable. 

"  After  having  known  all  the  sweets  of  a  love  that  is 
shared,  and  all  the  suffering  of  one  that  is  so  no  longer ; 
after  having  exhausted  all  the  pleasures  that  supreme 
power  can  confer,  and  the  happiness  of  beholding  the 
man  whom  I  loved,  enthusiastically  admired,  is  there 
aught  else,  save  repose,  to  be  desired  ?  "What  illusions 
can  now  remain  for  me  ?  All  such  vanished  when  it 
became  necessary  to  renounce  you.  Thus,  the  only 
ties  which  yet  bind  me  to  life  are  my  sentiments  for 
you,  attachment  for  my  children,  the  possibility  of 
being  able  still  to  do  some  good,  and  above  all,  the 
assurance  that  you  are  happy.  Do  not,  then,  condole 
with  me  on  my  being  here,  distant  from  a  court,  which 
you  appear  to  think  I  regret.  Surrounded  by  those 
who  are  attached  to  me,  free  to  follow  my  taste  for  the 
arts,  I  find  myself  better  at  Navarre  than  anywhere 
else ;  for  I  enjoy  more  completely  the  society  of  the 
former,  and  form  a  thousand  projects  which  may  prove 
useful  to  the  latter,  and  will  embellish  the  scenes  I 
owe  to  your  bounty.  There  is  much  to  be  done  here, 
for  all  around  are  discovered  the  traces  of  destruction ; 
these  I  would  efface,  that  there  may  exist  no  memorial 

of  those   horrible  inflictions  which  your  genius  has 

0» 


\ 

348  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINK. 

taught  the  nation  almost  to  forget.  In  repairing  what 
ever  these  ruffians  of  revolution  labored  to  annihilate, 
I  shall  diffuse  comfort  around  me ;  and  the  benedictions 
of  the  poor  will  afford  me  infinitely  more  pleasure  than 
the  feigned  adulations  of  courtiers, 

"I  have  already  told  you  what  I  think  of  the  func- 
tionaries in  this  department,  but  have  not  spoken  suffi- 
ciently of  the  respectable  bishop  (M.  Bourlier.)  Every 
day  I  learn  some  new  trait,  which  causes  me  still  more 
highly  to  esteem  the  man  who  unites  the  most  en- 
lightened benevolence  with  the  most  amiable  dis- 
positions. He  shall  be  intrusted  with  distributing  my 
alms-deeds  in  Evreux ;  and  as  he  visits  the  indigent 
himself,  I  shall  be  assured  that  my  charities  are  proper- 
ly bestowed.  -^ 

"I  cannot  sufficiently  thank  you,  sire,  for  the  liberty 
you  have  permitted  me  of  choosing  the  members  of  my 
household,  all  of  whom  contribute  to  the  pleasure  of  a 
delightful  society.  One  circumstance  alone  gives  me 
pain,  namely,  the  etiquette  of  costume,  which  becomes 
a  little  tiresome  in  the  country.  You  fear  that  there 
may  be  something  wanting  to  the  rank  I  have  pre- 
served, should  a  slight  infraction  be  allowed  in  the 
toilet  of  these  gentlemen ;  but  I  believe  you  are  wrong 
in  thinking  they  would,  for  one  minute,  forget  the  re- 
spect due  to  the  woman  who  was  your  companion. 
Their  respect  for  yourself,  joined  to  the  sincere  attach, 
ment  they  bear  to  me  (which  I  cannot  doubt,)  secures 
me  against  the  danger  of  being  obliged  to  recall  what 
it  is  your  wish  they  should  remember.    My  most  hon* 


LIFE  OF.  JOSEPHINS.  349 

orable  title  is  derived,  not  from  having  been  crowned, 
but  assuredly  from  having  been  chosen  by  you — none 
other  is  of  value — that  alone  suffices  for  my  immor- 
tality. 

"  I  expect  Eugene.  I  doubly  long  to  see  him  ;  for 
he  will  doubtless  bring  me  a  new  pledge  "of  your  re- 
membrance ;  and  I  can  question  him  at  my  ease  of  a 
thousand  things  concerning  which  I  desire  to  be  in- 
formed, but  cannot  inquire  of  you ;  things,  too,  of 
which  you  ought  still  less  to  speak  to  me.  My  daugh- 
ter will  come  also,  but  later,  her  health  not  permitting 
her  to  travel  at  this  season.  I  beseech  you,  sire,  to 
recommend  that  she  take  care  of  herself;  and  insist 
since  I  am  to  remain  here,  that  she  do  everything  pos- 
sible to  spare  me  the  insupportable  anxiety  I  feel  under 
any  increase  of  her  ill  health.  The  weakness  in  her 
chest  alarms  me  beyond  all  expression,  I  desire  Cor- 
visart  to  write  me  his  opinion  without  reserve. 

"  My  circle  is  at  this  time  somewhat  more  numerous 
than  usual,  there  being  several  visitors,  besides  many 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Evreux  and  the  environs,  whom  I 
see  of  course.  I  am  pleased  with  their  manners,  and 
with  their  admiration  of  you,  a  particular  in  which,  as 
you  know,  I  am  not  easily  satisfied ;  in  short,  I  find 
myself  perfectly  at  home  in  the  midst  of  my  forest,  and 
entreat  you,  sire,  no  longer  to  fancy  to  yourself  that 
there  is  no  living  at  a  distance  from  court.  Besides 
you,  there  is  nothing  there  I  regret,  since  I  shall  have 
my  chil^en  with  me  soon,  and  already  enjoy  the  so- 
ciety of  the  small  number  of  friends  who  remained 


\ 

350  LIFE  OP  JOSEPHINK, 

faithful  to  me.  Do  not  forget  your  friend;  tell  her 
sometimes  that  you  preserve  for  her  an  attachment 
which  constitutes  the  felicity  of  her  life  ;  often  repeat 
to  her  that  you  are  happy,  and  be  assured  that  for  her 
the  future  will  thus  be  peaceful,  as  the  past  has  been 
stormy — aild  often  sad." 

While  these  scenes  were  passing  in  the  mansion  of 
Josephine,  the  Emperor  held  councils  at  Paris  to  de- 
termine the  most  advantageous  matrimonial  alliance 
for  his  realm.  Austria  gained  the  honor  of  furnishing 
the  second  wife  of  Napoleon.  Count  Lauriston  and 
Prince  Neufchatel  were  sent  to  demand  the  hand  of 
Maria  Louisa,  of  the  Austrian  monarch.  The  mar- 
riage ceremony  was  celebrated  according  to  the  de- 
finite arrangements  of  Bonaparte,  March,  1810.  That 
it  is  a  weakness  when  a  great  mind  is  unable  to  de- 
scend to  minute  and  common  things,  was  illustrated  by 
contrast  in  this  affair,  planned  and  directed  in  all  its 
details  by  the  same  genius  that  scaled  the  Alps,  and 
gave  sceptres  to  trembling  kings.  The  season  passed, 
and  Napoleon  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  an  heir  to  his 
diadem  and  name.  After  a  visit  he  made  during  this 
period  at  Navarre,  Josephine  remarked  to  a  friend : — 

"  You  cannot  conceive,  my  friend,  all  the  torments 
I  have  endured  since  that  fatal  day :  I  cannot  think 
how  I  survived  it.  You  can  form  no  conception  of 
the  misery  it  is  to  me  to  see  everywhere  description 
of  fStes.  And  the  first  time  he  came  to  see  me  after 
his  marriage,  oh  !  what  a  meeting  was  that !  what  tears 
I  shed !     The  days  on  which  he  comes  are  days  of 


LIFB  OF  JOSEPHINX.  «ifl 

torture  to  me,  for  he  has  no  delicacy.  How  cruel  of 
him  to  speak  to  me  about  his  expected  heir  I  you  may 
suppose  how  distressing  all  this  is  to  me.  Better  far 
to  be  exiled  a  thousand  leagues  from  hence !  How- 
ever, some  few  friends  still  continue  faithful  to  me, 
and  that  is  now  my  only  consolation  in  the  few  mo- 
ments I  am  able  to  admit  of  it." 

And  yet  this  amiable,  grieving  exile,  was  among  the 
first  to  express  her  interest  on  the  father's  account, 
when  the  birth  of  the  King  of  Rome  was  announced. 
This  event  occurred  March  26th,  1811,  after  imminent 
danger  in  regard  to  the  fate  of  both  the  queen  and  her 
son.  It  was  during  this  crisis,  Napoleon,  with  tho 
calm  accents  of  complete  self-command,  said  to  Du- 
bois, the  attending  physician,  "  Treat  my  wife  as  you 
would  a  shop-keeper's  in  the  Rue  St.  Denis."  And 
when  the  question  arose  which  should  be  sacrificed,  if 
one  must  die,  mother  or  child,  he  exclaimed,  "  Save 
my  wife!  the  rest  affects  me  little."  It  is  difficult 
after  all,  to  estimate  the  motive  in  the  direction  to  Du- 
bois. For  love  to  Maria  Louisa  alone,  could  not  have 
governed  him  ;  greater  affection  had  been  violated  to 
obtain  the  gift  he  was  likely  to  lose— but  doubtless  he 
preferred  the  probability  of  another  heir  to  the  death 
of  a  queen  and  the  difficult  care  of  a  motherless  in- 
fant 

The  joy  which  succeeded  the  intensely  painful  sus- 
pense of  the  people,  when  the  thunder  of  cannon  her- 
alded the  presence  of  a  prince  in  the  palace  of  St. 
Cloud,  was  a  wild  burst  of  enthusiasm,  that  swept 


\ 

352  LTPE  OF  JOSEPHINrB. 

storm-like  over  an  empire  whose  population  was  fifty- 
seven  millions.  Unconscious  heir  of  prospective 
glory ! — the  object  of  national  idolatry,  the  treasure 
of  a  monarch  whose  wealth  was  kingdoms,  and  the 
occasion  of  solicitude  to  the  sovereigns  of  half  the 
world ! 

Josephine's  household  were  at  a  magnificent  enter- 
tainment given  by  the  prefect,  when  the  tidings  came 
to  him,  whose  office  required  his  aid  in  extending  the 
public  jubilee.  The  guests  dispersed,  and  among  those 
who  returned  to  the  saloon  of  Josephine,  where  she 
was  alone  with  the  Princess  d'Arberg,  was  Madam  De- 
crest,  who  touchingly  said — "  I  confess  that  my  bound- 
less affection  for  Josephine  caused  me  violent  sorrow, 
when  I  thought  that  she  who  occupied  her  place  was 
now  completely  happy.  Knowing  as  yet  but  imper- 
fectly the  grandeur  of  soul  which  characterized  the 
Empress,  her  entire  denial  of  self,  and  absolute  devo- 
tion to  the  happiness  of  the  Emperor,  I  imagined  there 
must  still  remain  in  her  so  much  of  the  woman  as 
would  excite  bitter  regret  at  not  having  been  the  moth- 
er of  a  son  so  ardently  desired.  I  judged  like  a  friv- 
olous bemg  of  the  gay  world,  who  had  never  known 
cares  beyond  those  of  a  ball. 

"On  arriving  at  the  palace,  where  the  first  comers 
had  spread  the  news,  I  learned  how  to  appreciate  one 
who  had  so  long  been  the  cherished  companion,  often 
the  counsellor,  and  always  the  true  friend  of  Napoleon. 
1  beheld  every  face  beaming  with  joy,  and  Josephine's 
mere  radiant  than  any,  for  all  but  reflected  her  sati^>fac- 


LirS  OV  JOSSPHIXB.  853 

tion.  No  sooner  had  the  party  from  the  carriage  en- 
tered the  saloon,  than  she  eagerly  enquired  what  de- 
tails w€  had  learned.  '  I  do  regret,'  she  continued  to 
repeat,  '  being  so  far  from  Paris ;  at  Malinaison  I  could 
have  had  information  every  half  hour !  I  greatly  re- 
joice that  the  painful  sacrifice  which  I  made  for  France 
is  likely  to  be  useful,  and  that  her  future  destiny  is  now 
secure.  How  happy  the  Emperor  must  be  !  One  thing 
alone  makes  me  sad  ;  namely,  not  having  been  informed 
of  that  happiness  by  himself:  but  then  he  has  so  many 
orders  to  give,  so  many  congratulations  to  receive. 
Young  ladies,  we  must  do  here  as  elsewhere ;  there 
must  be  a  fete  to  solemnize  the  accomplishment  of  so 
many  vows.  I  will  give  you  a  ball.  And,  as  the  sa- 
loons are  small,  I  will  have  the  hall  of  the  guards  floored 
above  the  marble ;  for  the  whole  city  of  Evreux  must 
come  to  rejoice  with  us :  I  can  never  have  too  many 
people  on  this  occasion.  Make  your  preparations ;  get 
ready  some  of  my  jewels ;  I  must  not,  in  the  present 
case,  continue  to  receive  my  visitors  in  a  bonnet  de 
nuit.  As  for  you,  gentlemen,  I  require,  for  this  once, 
your  grand  costume.'  Her  majesty's  pleasant  counte- 
nance was,  if  possible,  more  than  usually  open  and 
frank  in  its  expression  while  she  spoke,  and  never,  in 
my  opinion,  did  she  show  herself  more  worthy  of  the 
high  fortunes  she  had  enjoyed." 

Napoleon  was  too  much  absorbed  with  the  consum- 
mation of  his  ardent  wishes,  to  think  for  a  time  of  his 
repudiated  wife,  who  tempered  the  torture  of  regret 
with  sincere  rejoicing,  on  the  fruition  of  his  most  dazr 


354  UFB   OP   JOSEPHINE, 

zling  hopes.  Upon  important  occasions,  he  usually 
sent  a  special  messenger  to  Navarre  to  inform  Jose- 
phine of  passing  events ;  but  her  intelligence  of  the 
royal  birth  had  come  only  through  the  prefect,  and  dem- 
onstrations of  gladness  that  filled  the  heavens  with 
the .  continual  roar  of  artillery,  and  spread  music  and 
dancing  over  the  land.  She  was  grieved  by  this  neg- 
lect, and  addressed  a  note  to  the  Emperor,  which 
shows  a  confidence  in  his  regard,  and  a  magnanimity 
of  soul,  that  none  can  contemplate  without  the  admi- 
ration and  interest  of  a  personal  esteem. 

"Navarre,  March  20-21,  1811. 

"  Sire, — Amid  the  numerous  felicitations  which  you 
receive  from  every  corner  of  Europe,. from  all  the  cities 
of  France,  and  from  each  regiment  of  your  army,  can 
the  feeble  voice  of  a  woman  reach  your  ear,  and  will 
you  deign  to  listen  to  her  who  so  often  consoled  your 
sorrows  and  sweetened  your  pains,  now  that  she  speaks 
to  you  only  of  that  happiness  in  which  all  your  wishes 
are  fulfilled  ?  Having  ceased  to  be  your  wife,  dare  I 
felicitate  you  on  becoming  a  father?  Yes,  sire,  with- 
out hesitation,  for  my  soul  renders  justice  to  yours,  in 
like  manner  as  you  know  mine ;  I  can  conceive  every 
emotion  you  must  experience,  as  you  divine  all  that  1 
feel  at  this  moment;  and,  though  separated,  we  are 
united  by  that  sympathy  which  survives  all  events. 

"  I  should  have  desired  to  learn  the  birth  of  the  King 
of  Rome  from  yourself,  and  not  from  the  sound  of  the 
cannon  of  Evreux,  or  the  courier  of  the  prefect ;   I 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPHrtTB.  855 

know,  however,  that  in  preference  to  all,  your  first  at- 
tentions are  due  to  the  public  authorities  of  the  state,    *  .  < 
to  the  foreign  ministers,  to  your  family,  and  especially 
to  the  fortunate  Princess  who  has  realized  your  dearest 
hopes.     She  cannot  be  more  tenderly  devoted  to  you 
than  I ;  but  she  has  been  enabled  to  contribute  more 
towards  your  happiness,  by  securing  that  of  France. 
She  has  then  a  right  to  your  first  feelings,  to  all  your 
cares ;  and  1,  who  was  but  your  companion  in  times 
of  difficulty — I  cannot  ask  more  than  a  place  in  your 
affection,  far  removed  from  that  occupied  by  the  Em-       > 
press  Maria  Louisa.    Not  till  you  have  ceased  to  watch    '^ 
by  her  bed,  not  till  you  are  weary  of  embracing  your 
son,  will  you  take  the  pen  to  converse  with  your  best 
friend.     I  will  wait. 

"  Meanwhile,  it  is  not  possible  for  me  to  delay  tell- 
mg  you,  that  more  than  any  one  in  the  world  do  I  re- 
joice in  your  joy ;  and  you  doubt  not  my  sincerity, 
when  I  here  say,  that,  far  from  feeling  affliction  at  a 
sacrifice  necessary  to  the  repose  of  all,  I  congratulate 
myself  on  having  made  it,  since  I  now  suffer  alone. 
But  I  am  wrong — I  do  not  suffer,  while  you  are  happy  ; 
and  have  but  one  regret,  in  not  having  yet  done  enough 
to  prove  to  you  how  dear  you  were  to  me.  I  have  no 
account  of  the  health  of  the  Empress ;  I  dare  to  depend 
upon  you,  sire,  so  far  as  to  hope  that  I  shall  have  cir- 
cumstantial details  of  the  great  event  which  assures 
the  perpetuity  of  the  name  you  have  so  nobly  illus- 
trated. Eugene  and  Hortense  will  write  me,  impart- 
ing their  own  satisfaction  ;  but  it  is  from  you  that  I 
23 


850  LI7S  OF  JOSSPHCtCB. 

desire  to  know  if  your  child  be  well — if  he  resemble 
you — if  I  shall  one  day  be  permitted  to  see  him ;  in 
short,  I  expect  from  you  unlimited  confidence,  and 
upon  such  I  have  some  claims,  in  consideration,  sire, 
of  the  boundless  attachment  I  shall  cherish  for  you 
while  life  remains." 

The  next  day  Eugene  arrived  and  gave  his  mother 
the  particulars  she  desired  ;  and  at  eleven  o'clock  the 
same  evening,  a  page  was  formally  announced  bearing 
a  message  direct  from  St.  Cloud  to  Josephine.  She 
had  not  forgotten  the  youthful  member  of  her  former 
court,  and  with  native  kindness  relieved  his  embarrass- 
ment while  searching  for  the  note  he  had  too  carefully 
concealed  about  his  person,  by  inquiring  familiarly 
after  his  friends  and  his  own  success.  But  the  instant 
her  hand  felt  the  precious  billet,  she  vanished  to"  her 
private  apartment,  and  for  half  an  hour  sprinkled  the 
blotted  sheet  with  tears.  Eugene  had  followed  her, 
and  when  they  returned,  gave  evidence  that  Josephine 
had  not  wept  alone.  The  scene  upon  rejoining  the 
company,  is  thus  described  by  a  friend. 

"  We  dared  not  question  the  Empress  ;  but  observ- 
ing our  curiosity,  she  had  the  condescension  to  gratify 
us  with  a  sight  of  the  letter ;  it  consisted  of  about  ten 
or  twelve  lines,  traced  on  one  page,  and  was,  as  usual, 
covered  with  blots.  I  do  not  exactly  remember  the 
commencement,  but  the  conclusion  was,  word  for 
word, — '  This  infant  in  concert  with  our  Eugene,  will 
constitute  my  happiness  and  that  of  France.'  '  Is  it 
possible,'  remarked  the  Empress,  'to  be  more  amiable? 


UTB  OP  JOSIEPHIKX.  857 

or  could  anything  be  better  calculated  to  soothe  wliat- 
ever  might  be  painful  in  my  thoughts  at  this  moment, 
did  I  not  so  sincerely  love  the  Emperor?  This  uni- 
ting of  my  son  with  his  own  is  indeed  worthy  of  him, 
who,  when  he  wills,  is  the  most  delightful  of  men. 
This  it  is  which  has  so  much  moved  me.'  Calling, 
then,  for  the  messenger,  Josephine  said,  'For  the  Em- 
peror and  for  yourself — giving  the  page  a  letter,  and 
a  small  morocco  case,  containing  a  diamond  brooch, 
value  five  thousand  francs  (two  hundred  guineas.) 
This,  indeed,  was  the  present  intended  for  the  messen- 
ger, should  the  child  be  a  girl,  and  one  of  twelve 
thousand  francs  for  a  boy  ;  but,  with  her  usual  good 
taste,  she  made  this  alteration,  fearing  the  people 
might  talk  rather  of  her  munificence  than  satisfac- 
tion. Exactly  in  the  same  style  of  splendid  propri- 
ety was  given  the  entertainment  which  she  had 
promised  to  her  little  court." 

So  disinterested  was  this  sorrowful  spirit,  that  she 
sought  a  friendly  intercourse  and  correspondence  with 
Maria  Louisa.  Though  Bonaparte  favored  cordially 
the  proposal,  the  Queen  was  a  stranger  to  that  eleva- 
tion of  sentiment  which  suggested  it,  and  jealous  of 
associations  involving  her  unrivalled  sovereignty  of 
the  Emperor's  heart,  if  not  of  the  realm  he  ruled 
We  are,  at  every  new  disclosure  of  the  principles  of 
action  that  animated  the  heroine  of  this  history,  in 
duced  to  pause  and  wonder,  while  we  eulogize  the  un- 
paralleled nobility  of  nature,  at  the  symmetry  and  spot- 
less purity  of  a  character  matured  under   influencM 


35 R  LITB   OP  JOSEPHINE. 

generally  corrupt,  at  least  inadequate  to  the  sublime 
development  she  exhibited.  This  reflection  was  awak- 
ened here  by  the  perusal  of  a  letter  to  the  Queen  on 
the  subject  of  more  intimacy  in  social  life. 

"  Madam, — While  you  were  only  the  second  spouse 
of  the  Emperor,  I  deemed  it  becoming  to  maintain 
silence  towards  your  majesty;  that  reserve,  I  think, 
may  be  laid  aside,  now  that  you  are  become  the 
mother  of  an  heir  to  the  empire.  You  might  have 
had  some  difficulty  in  crediting  the  sincerity  of  her 
whom,  perhaps,  you  regarded  as  a  rival ;  you  will 
give  faith  to  the  felicitations  of  a  French  woman,  for 
you  have  bestowed  a  son  upon  France.  Your  amia- 
bleness  and  sweetness  of  disposition  have  gained  you 
the  heart  of  the  Emperor;  your  benevolence  merits 
the  blessings  of  the  unfortunate,  the  birth  of  a  con 
claims  the  benedictions  of  all  France.  How  amiable 
a  people — how  feeling — how  deserving  of  admiration 
are  the  French !  To  use  an  expression  which  paints 
them  exactly — '  they  love  to  love  !'  Oh !  how  delight- 
ful, then,  to  be  loved  by  them  !  It  is  upon  this  facility 
and,  at  the  same  time,  steadiness  of  affection,  that  the 
partisans  of  their  ancient  kings  have  so  long  rested 
their  expectations ;  and  here  their  trust  is  not  without 
reason.  Whatever  may  happen,  the  name  of  Henry 
IV.,  for  instance,  will  always  be  reverenced.  It  must 
be  confessed,  however,  that  the  Revolution,  without 
corrupting  the  heart,  has  greatly  extended  the  intelli- 
gence, and  rendered  the  spirits  of  men  more  exacting 
Under  our  kings,  they  were  satisfied  with  repose — now 


idrx  or  JOSKPHCfx.  i#i 

they  demand  glory.  These,  madam,  are  the  two  bless- 
ings, the  foretaste  of  which  you  have  been  called  to 
give  to  France.  She  will  enjoy  them  in  perfection 
under  your  son,  if  to  the  manly  virtues  of  his  sire  he 
join  those  of  his  august  mother,  by  which  they  may 
be  tempered." 

In  this  generous  endeavor  she  was  unsuccessful, 
although  by  the  kindness  of  Napoleon  permitted  fre- 
quently to  see  his  son.  These  visits  were  unknown 
to  Maria  Louisa,  and  were  made  at  a  royal  pavilion 
near  Paris,  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperor,  and  Madam 
Montesquieu,  governess  of  the  child.  Josephine,  du- 
ring the  interviews,  could  seldom  restrain  her  emo- 
tions. With  Bonaparte  by  her  side,  and  the  innocent 
boy  for  whose  sake  she  was  repudiated,  in  her  arms, 
it  is  not  strange  that  she  showered  upon  his  fair  fore- 
head the  dew  of  feeling  too  deap  for  utterance.  Her 
smile  of  affection  upon  the  father  and  child,  would 
break  through  her  grief,  like  the  bow  of  summer  amid 
the  sobbings  of  the  passing  storm.  In  uncomplaining 
resignation,  she  .caressed  the  baby-king,  and  clasped 
him  to  her  bosom  as  though  he  were  her  own,  till  Na- 
poleon would  brush  away  a  tear  from  his  own  calm 
face,  and  gaze  for  a  moment  with  former  tenderness 
on  the  lovely  being,  whose  countenance,  so  radiant 
with  expression,  made  the  "burial  places  of  memory 
give  up  iheir  dead,"  and  glowed  like  living  fire  on  his 
conscience.  At  length  such  occasions  more  seldom 
recurred,  until  from  the  difficulty  of  concealment,  they 
ceased  entirely.     It  v/as  removing  a  source  of  melan- 


860  LIFS  OF  JOSSPHIITS. 

choly  joy  from  Josephine,  closing  the  parted  clouds  of 
a  tempest  again  above  her  drooping  head,  and  leav- 
ing her  only  the  rays  of  comfort  that  pierced  the  dark- 
ness, when  a  note  or  verbal  message  from  the  Empe- 
ror reached  Navarre. 

In  a  letter  written  about  this  time,  she  alludes  to 
the  privileges  she  had  enjoyed,  and  the  necessity  of 
its  sacrifice. 

"Assuredly,  sire,  it  was  not  mere  curiosity  which 
led  me  to  desire  to  meet  the  King  of  Rome ;  I  wished 
to  examine  his  countenance — to  hear  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  so  like  your  own — to  behold  you  caress  a  son  on 
whom  centre  so  many  hopes  —  and  to  repay  him  the 
tenderness  which  you  lavished  on  my  own  Eugene. 
When  you  recall  how  dearly  you  loved  mine,  you  will 
not  be  surprised  at  my  affection  for  the  son  of  another, 
since  he  is  yours  likewise,  nor  deem  either  false  or  ex- 
aggerated, sentiments  which  you  have  so  fully  expe- 
rienced in  your  own  heart.  The  moment  I  saw  you 
enter,  leading  the  young  Napoleon  in  your  hand,  was 
unquestionably  one  of  the  happiest  of  my  life.  It 
effaced  for  a  time  the  recollection  of  all  that  had  pre- 
ceded ;  for  never  have  I  received  from  you  ai,  more 
touching  mark  of  affection.  It  is  more  :  it  is  one  of 
esteem — of  sincere  attachment.  Still,  I  am  perfectly 
sensible,  sire,  that  those  meetings  which  afford  me  so 
much  pleasure  cannot  be  frequently  renewed ;  and  I 
must  not  so  far  intrude  on  your  compliance  as  to  put 
it  often  under  contribution.    Let  this  sacrifice  to  your 


LIFE    OF   JOSEPHINE.  361 

domestic  tranquillity  be  one  proof  more  of  my  desire 
to  see  you  happy." 

An  interesting  story  is  told  of  the  two  Empresses  in 
connection  with  the  King  of  Rome,  which,  whether 
strictly  authentic  or  not,  illustrates  their  character. 
Redoute,  a  distinguished  artist,  and  frequent  visitor 
at  the  saloons  of  Navarre,  was  one  morning  on  his  way 
to  the  chateau  with  paintings  of  flowers,  when  he  be- 
held in  the  garden  of  the  Tuilleries  a  hurrying  multi- 
tude, and  heard  the  shouts  of  "  The  King  of  Rome ! 
The  Empress !"  By  the  side  of  Maria  Louisa,  was  a 
miniature  carriage  drawn  by  four  snow-white  goats. 
He  paused  to  gaze  on  the  novel  scene,  when  his  eye  fell 
upon  a  pale  young  mother  near  him,  whose  tears  from 
their  sunken  orbs  dropped  freely  on  the  rosy  cheeks 
of  her  child.  He  caught  these  broken  accents  of  grief:— 

"  My  poor  little  one  ! — my  darling !  you  have  no 
carriage,  my  angel ;  no  playthings — no  toys  of  any 
kind.  For  him  abundance,  pleasure,  every  joy  of  his 
age,  for  thee,  desolation,  suffering,  poverty,  hunger! 
What  is  he  that  he  should  be  happier  than  you,  dar- 
ling ?  Both  of  you  born  the  same  day,  the  same  hour ! 
I  as  young  as  his  mother,  and  loving  you  as  fondly  as 
she  loves  him.  But  you  have  now  no  father,  my  poor 
babe  ;  you  have  no  father  !" 

The  artist  forgot  the  rushing  crowd,  and  the  pageant 
they  were  pursuing,  and  kindly  addressed  the  poor 
woman. 

"  Madam,  why  do  you  not  make  known  your  situ- 
ation to  the  Empress  ?" 


362  UFB  OF  JOSEPHINK. 

"  To  what  purpose,  sir  ?  Small  compassion  have 
the  great. ones  of  this  world." 

"  But  why  not  make  the  attempt  ?  " 

"  I  have  done  so,  sir,  already.  I  wrote  to  the  Em- 
press, and  told  her  that  my  son  was  born  the  same  day, 
the  same  hour  with  the  King  of  Rome.  I  told  her, 
alas !  that  he  has  no  father,  that  my  strength  is  failing 
that  we  are  utterly  destitute.  But  the  Empress  has 
not  deigned  to  answer." 

"  You  will  have  an  answer,  rest  assured.  Perhaps 
the  memorial  has  not  been  yet  placed  before  her  maj- 
esty.    Give  me  your  address,  I  beg  of  you  ?" 

Upon  meeting  Josephine,  who  was  surprised  at  the 
delay  in  his  appointed  call,  he  apologized  with  a  rela- 
tion of  these  incidents  by  the  way.     She  replied — 

"  I  see  the  great  artist,  as  always  happens,  has  a  feel- 
ing heart.  If  Napoleon  did  but  know  the  destitution 
of  this  child,  born  the  same  day,  the  same  hour  with  his 
son !  Be  with  me  to-morrow  morning  at  nine  o'clock ; 
we  will  together  visit  this  poor  creature." 

At  the  time  appointed,  Redoute  and  Josephine  were 
threading  a  narrow  and  dismal  alley,  leading  to  the 
widow's  abode,  a  miserable  garret  in  the  fifth  story  of 
a  dark  old  structure.  Ascending  the  damp  stair-way, 
the  painter  soon  introduced  his  fair  companion  to  the 
ghastly  wreck  of  a  lovely  woman,  and  her  laughing 
boy.  Josephine  caressing  the  unconscious  orphan, 
learned  from  the  mother,  the  mournful  history  of  her 
bereavement  and  poverty.  Then  rising,  she  placed  in 
the  hand  of  the  child  a  purse,  and  with  the  tremulous 


LITE  OF  JOSXPHOrS.  363 

tones  of  deep  feeling,  assured  the  widow  that  brighter 
days  were  before  her — and  promising  a  physician,  and 
also  a  removal  on  the  morrow  to  a  cheerful  dwelling. 
At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  a  lady  elegantly- 
attired,  entered  with  an  escort,  and  calmly  surveyed 
the  apartment,  as  though  her  presence  were  a  miracle 
of  benevolent  condescension.     It  was  Maria  Louisa, 
who  had  with  unwonted  interest  in  the  poor,  answered 
at  her  leisure  the  appeal  of  the  sufferer.     She  did  not 
recognize  her  rival  in  the  love  of  the  Emperor,  having 
carefully  avoided  intercourse  with  her ;  while  Redoute 
was  studying  with  an  artist's  earnestness  and  observant 
eye,  the  faces  of  each — the  one  expressing  the  pride  of 
rank  and  consciousness  of  power,  the  other  the  sweet- 
ness of  benignity  itself,  excepting  a  shadow  of  disdain 
for  the  display  of  greatness,  that  passed  over  her  sad 
yet  radiant  features.     When  the  Empress  disclosed  the 
design  of  her  visit,  Josephine  spoke — "  Your  intention 
is  most  laudable,  doubtless,  madam,  but  you  are  rather 
late ;  the  young  mother  and  the  child  are  under  my 
protection."    Maria  haughtily  replied,  "I  have  some 
reason  to  believe  that  my  patronage  will  be  a  little 
more  advantageous."     After  a  spirited  conversation  in 
which  the  artist  and  chamberlain  joined  to  defend  the 
illustrious  philanthropists,  Josephine   withdrew.     For 
two  years  she  protected  and  maintained  the  widow  and 
her  son — and  when  both  she  and  that  mother  were 
dead,  the  homeless  Charles,  deserted  by  relatives,  be- 
came the  protegi  of  the  struggling  and  gifted  Redoute. 
Napoleon  when  in  exile,  said  of  his  wives,  that  he 


364  LIFE   OF  JOSBPHro;. 

had  been  much  attached  to  them  both — adding,  "  The 
one  was  the  votary  of  art  and  the  graces ;  the  other 
was  all  innocence  and  simple  nature ;  and  each,  he  ob- 
served, had  a  very  high  degree  of  merit.  The  first,  in 
no  moment  of  her  life,  ever  assumed  a  position  or  at- 
titude that  was  not  pleasing  or  captivating ;  it  was  im- 
possible to  take  her  by  surprise,  or  to  make  her  feel  the 
least  inconvenience.  She  employed  every  resource  of 
art  to  heighten  natural  attractions,  but  with  such  in- 
genuity as  to  render  every  trace  of  allurement  imper- 
ceptible. The  other,  on  the  contrary,  never  suspected 
that  anything  was  to  be  gained  by  innocent  artifice. 
The  one  was  always  somewhat  short  of  the  truth  of 
nature  ;  the  other  was  altogether  frank  and  open,  and 
was  a  stranger  to  subterfuge.  The  first  never  asked 
her  husband  for  anything,  but  she  was  in  debt  to  every 
one ;  the  second  freely  asked  whenever  she  wanted, 
which,  however,  very  seldom  happened,  and  she  never 
thought  of  receiving  anything  without  immediately 
paying  for  it.  Both  were  amiable  and  gentle  in  dis- 
position, and  strongly  attached  to  their  husband." 

Josephine's  benevolence  never  shone  more  purely 
than  at  Navarre.  Her  income  was  125,000/.  a  year, 
of  which  four  or  five  thousand  were  devoted  to  chari- 
table uses.  The  suffering  were  relieved — the  home- 
less found  refuge — and  we  have  seen  how  the  widow 
and  the  fatherless  were  visited  in  their  affliction.  In 
addition  to  this,  she  avoided  at  all  times  a  tone  of  voice 
or  a  look,  which  might  fling  a  shadow  upon  the  path  of 
the  humblest  pilgrim  to  the  goal  of  mortality.     When 


LIFE  OF  JOSEPmSB.  865 

needful  to  rebuke  an  attendant  for  delinquency,  it  was 
simply  by  silence— withholding  any  expression  of 
favor,  which  never  failed  to  restore  the  offender  peni- 
tently to  duty.  If  a  member  of  her  court  was  sick, 
.she  was  the  first  to  enter  the  chamber,  and  as  often  as 
the  strength  of  returning  health  would  allow,  appointed 
the  meetings  of  her  little  circle  in  the  apartment  of  the 
invalid,  to  cheer  with  their  entertainment  the  heart 
weary  of  confinement.  She  received  and  deserved 
the  title  of  "  the  excellent  Josephine,"  exhibiting  in  the 
minutest  details  of  daily  life,  the  same  gentleness,  and 
magnanimity,  on  great  occasions  displayed  more  stri- 
kingly to  the  multitude.  She  thus  writes  to  a  friend  in 
relation  to  her  joining  the  group,  whose  attachment 
lent  a  charm  to  existence,  which  misfortune  had  so 
bereft  of  its  clustering  delights. 

"  You  will  find  with  me  the  gentlest  and  most 
agreeable  society.  Some  of  my  ladies  are  kind  and 
good;  they  have  not  always  been  happy,  and  will 
therefore  sympathize  in  your  melancholy  without  for- 
cing you  to  be  gay;  others  will  beguile  you  of  your 
sorrows  by  the  charms  of  their  wit ;  and  with  the 
gentlemen  of  my  court  you  may  converse  on  thoa6 
acquirements  which  you  have  cultivated  with  pleasure 
and  success.  Some  young  persons  in  whom  I  am 
interested  will  study  along  with  your  amiable  daughter ; 
she  will  increase  their  knowledge  by  communicating 
her  own,  and  will  receive  in  return  lessons  in  music 
and  accomplishments  not  otherwise  accessible  in  th« 
chateau  of  her  deceased  father.     Thus,  many  advan- 


866  MPB'OF  JOSEPHINB. 

tages  concur  to  decide  you  to  come  and  live  with  me ; 
and  I  venture  to  believe  that  your  affection  will  reckon 
among  these  inducements  the  certainty  of  thus  con- 
tributing to  render  my  retreat  more  pleasing.  Hitherto, 
I  have  been  surrounded  by  all  imaginable  proofs  of  - 
regard.  I  have  received  visits  from  the  whole  of 
Napoleon's  court.  It  is  known  that  he  desires  I  should 
always  be  treated  as  Empress ;  and  besides,  people 
wish  to  see  with  their  own  eyes  how  I  support  my 
new  situation.  When  they  shall  have  been  able  to  say 
several  times  before  Napoleon  that  they  have  been  at 
Malmaison,  and  shall  have  fully  examined  my  counte- 
nance, and  criticized  my  manners,  they  will  cease  to 
come  eight  leagues  to  visit  a  person  who  can  no  longer 
do  anything  for  them,  and  I  shall  be  left  alone  with 
my  true  friends,  of  whom  /  will  that  you  augment  the 
number.  These  words  I  will  have  escaped  me;  it  is 
the  consequence  of  a  habit  which  I  shall  correct ;  but 
one  of  my  habits  I  shall  never  resign — that  of  loving 
you  faithfully.  Come,  and  believe  in  the  attachment 
of  Josephine." 

The  continued  confidence  that  Napoleon  reposed  in 
Josephine,  and  her  devotion  in  return,  present  his 
character  in  a  sublime  aspect,  however  intense  our 
indignation  at  the  deed  of  separation.  lie  would  have 
torn  his  own  frame  with  instraments  of  torture  if 
France  and  glory  required  it — and  none  but  himself 
knew  the  agonies  of  remorse  that  brought  hours  of 
wakefulness  to  his  couch  —  and  the  bitter  memories 
that  sometimes  thronged  his  spirit  in  moments  of  soli- 


LIFK  OF  JOSEPnmX.  S67 

tude.  The  gentle  Josephine  felt  that  he  must  suffer 
thus,  and  wept  over  it,  scarcely  less  frequently  than 
over  the  hopes  he  had  sternly  trodden  in  the  dust. 
The  mutual  regard  referred  to,  is  finely  expressed  in  a 
letter  written  in  reply  to  a  note  of  inquiry  after  hei 
health,  during  a  slight  illness. 

"  Sire, — The  indisposition  which  has  given  you 
some  uneasiness  on  my  account  has  left  no  bad  effects, 
and  I  am  almost  tempted  to  bless  the  dispensation,  as 
the  cause  of  my  receiving  a  billet,  which  proves  you 
continue  always  to  cherish  the  same  interest  in  my 
well-being.  This  certainty  of  your  attachment  will 
contribute  to  re-establish  a  health  which  is  already 
better.  What  you  say  respecting  your  family  disputes 
afflicts  nw  so  much  the  more  that  I  cannot,  as  formerly, 
endeavor  to  reconcile  them.  I  have  laid  down  as  a 
law  never  to  meddle  with  what  concerns  your  sisters  ; 
and  I  believe,  if  I  were  to  fail  in  this  self-imposed  rule 
of  conduct,  my  representations  would  be  ill  received. 
I  have  never  been  loved  by  these  personages,  who 
interest  me  deeply,  since  your  happiness  depends  in 
part  upon  their  conduct.  Envy  and  jealousy,  unfor- 
tunately, were  the  sentiments  I  inspired  ;  and  now  that 
I  am  deprived  of  a  power,  the  cause  of  their  umbrage, 
resentment  still  remains  at  having  be5n  so  long  obliged 
to  conceal  their  jealousy.  I  believe  you  exaggerate 
their  faults  towards  you,  a  necessary  consequence  of 
the  affection  you  bear  them.  They  love  you  sincerely, 
but  not  with  that  exaltation  of  sentiment  you  require 
in  everything ;  and  they  feel  not,  therefore,  the  chagrin 


368  LIFE   OF  JOSEPHINB. 

they  may  cause  you.  The  Queen  of  Naples,  for  in- 
stance, was  forced,  not  only  to  receive  the  Princess  of 
Wales,  while  travelling  through  her  states,  but  to  observe 
all  the  honors  due  to  that  title.  You  would  have 
blamed  her  had  she  acted  otherwise;  for  her  royal 
highness  was  unfortunate — a  claim  more  urgent  than 
even  illustrious  birth.  Why,  then,  impute  it  as  a  crime 
to  have  received  an  afflicted  woman,  accused,  perhaps, 
through  injustice  and  calumny  ?  Separated  from  a 
husband  and  from  a  child  who  loved  her,  had  she  not 
whereof  to  complain  ?  and  why,  then,  deny  her  the  sad 
consolation  of  an  honorable  hospitality  ?  Be  assured, 
therefore,  that  in  all  this  there  was  nothing  of  political 
contrivance,  no  intention  to  hrave  you.  Your  sister 
of  Naples  may  be  ambitious,  but  she  overflows  with 
tenderness  for  you,  and  is  too  proud  of  the  title  of  your 
sister  ever  to  do  anything  which  might  render  her  un- 
worthy thereof.  As  to  the  Princess  Pauline,  she  is  a 
pretty  child,  whom  all  of  us  have  taken  a  pleasure  in 
spoiling ;  we  need  not,  then,  be  surprised  or  offended  at 
her  absurdities.  With  her,  indulgence  always  succeeds 
better  than  a  severity,  which  we  are  forced  to  lay 
aside  whenever  we  look  upon  her  ravishing  beauty.'" 
Do  not  chide  her,  then  ;  recall  her  gently,  and  she  will 
reform.  Joseph  iS  obliged  to  manage  the  Spaniards,  a 
circumstance  which  fully  explains  the  kind  of  opposi- 
tion in  which  you  are  often  placed.  Time  will  bring 
back  union  between  you,  by  consolidating  a  power 
opposed  by  many  obstacles  in  this  its  commencement. 
When  you  are  better  satisfied  with  your  family,  do  not 


LIFB  OF  JOeSPHIirB.  369 

fail  to  inform  me ;  none,  sire,  can  more  rejoice  in  the 
good  understanding  that  ought  to  prevail  there.  Adieu. 
Calm  your  head — allow  your  heart  to  act ;  there  I  hold 
a  place  which  I  desire  to  maintain,  and  will  eternally 
merit  by  an  affection  without  limits." 

These  annals  of  private  intercourse  bring  the  Ufe 
of  Josephine  to  1812,  a  year  of  mighty  events  to  Eu- 
rope and  Napoleon.  Determined  to  avenge  the  in- 
juries of  Russia,  and  extend  his  conquests,  he  put  his 
affairs  in  order  for  an  enterprise  which  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  civilized  world.  Disasters  were  oc- 
curring in  Spain — and  Wellington  was  on  his  way  to 
Madrid ;  but  these  were  now  the  pastime  of  war,  and 
almost  forgotten  in  the  hurry  of  preparation  for  a 
campaign  which  filled  the  timid  with  alarm,  and  made 
heroes  pause  in  astonishment  before  the  gigantic  plan 
of  a  single  confident  and  majestic  mind.  Defeated  in 
the  design  of  forming  an  alliance  with  Turkey  and 
Sweden,  the  only  powers  of  Europe  not  in  some  way 
bound  to  his  throDe,  he  was  yet  undismayed,  the  only 
calm  spirit  that  surveyed  the  vast  and  perilous  field  of 
conflict,  spreading  from  the  Niemen  to  the  summits  of 
eternal  snow.  Before  his  departure  for  Russia,  he 
visited  Josephine.  She  received  him  cordially,  and 
with  her  nice  sense  of  propriety,  gave  him  a  seat  in 
the  garden,  where  the  courtiers  could  sec,  but  not  hear 
them  during  the  long  and  earnest  conversation  that 
followed.  She  spoke  of  his  campaign  with  deep  con- 
cern, and  would  have  persuaded  him  to  abandon  an 
expedition  so  fraught  with  danger.     She  said.  "  You 


370  UPS  OP  JOSEPHINB. 

are  playing  for  your  crown,  for  the  existence  of  your 
dynasty  and  the  lives  of  my  children." 

But  the  conqueror  kissing  her  hand,  entered  his 
carriage,  and  was  again  in  the  tide  of  preparation 
which  bore  men  and  munitions  of  war  toward  the 
plains  blackened  by  the  legions  of  his  foe.  Maria 
Louisa  accompanied  him  to  Dresden  to  see  her  father, 
while  he  hastened  to  the  banks  of  the  Niemen.  The 
mighty  host  marched  forward,  passed  the  Dnieper, 
gained  the  heights  of  Smolensk,  and  over  silent  re- 
doubts, entered  upon  a  pavement  of  ghastly  corpses, 
the  evacuated  and  ruined  city.  Never  was  there  a 
more  heroic  and  desolate  march  than  that  of  the 
French  battalions  towards  the  throne  of  the  Autocrat. 
Under  the  walls  of  Moscow  a  fierce  struggle  covered 
the  ground  with  the  dead,  and  as  victory  sent  the 
shout  of  the  living  along  the  lines,  the  fog  which  had 
wrapped  the  city  rolled  away,  and  the  sun  poured  his 
glory  on  the  domes  of  the  doomed  metropolis.  Napo- 
leon exclaimed,  "  Soldiers,  'tis  the  sun  of  Austerlitz !" 
— and  pressed  on  to  the  prize.  Even  then  he  might 
have  seen  the  flame  of  Russia's  offering  for  rescue, 
and  the  lurid  sign  of  his  own  terrible  calamity. 

That  awful  conflagration  swept  away  the  hopes  of 
an  army,  leaving  the  brave  legions  unsheltered  amid 
the  rigors  of  a  northern  winter.  Every  heart  quailed 
at  the  prospect,  but  that  of  the  unconquerable  Napo- 
leon. Rumors  had  spread  in  Paris  that  he  was  slain ; 
and  the  fanatic  Mallet  conceived  the  project  of  over- 
throwing the  Empire  and  restoring  in  some  shape  the 


JJFS  OF  JOSEPHIfifS.  371 

Republic.  The  stroke  was  given  the  very  day  Bona- 
parte turned  his  bacK  on  the  smoking  ruins  of  Mos- 
cow, and  arriving  at  Smolensk,  received  intelligence 
of  the  treason.  Though  the  conspiracy  was  a  signal 
failure,  and  the  insane  leader  with  fourteen  associates 
were  executed,  the  Emperor  was  in  a  rage,  and  ex- 
claimed to  General  Rapp : — 

"  Is  it  come  to  this,  then — is  my  power  so  insecure 
as  to  be  endangered  by  a  single  individual,  and  he  a 
prisoner?  It  would  seem  that  my  crown  sits  but 
loosely  on  my  head,  if,  in  my  own  capital,  the  bold 
stroke  of  three  adventurers  can  shake  it.  Rapp,  mis- 
fortune never  comes  alone;  this  is  an  appropriate 
finish  to  what  is  passing  here.  I  cannot  be  every- 
where, but  I  must  go  back  to  Paris ;  my  presence 
there  is  indispensable  to  reanimate  public  opinion.  I 
must  have  men  and  money ;  great  successes  and  great 
victories  will  repair  all ;  I  must  set  off." 

Giving  the  command  of  his  thinned  and  disheart- 
ened ranks  to  the  experienced  generals,  among  whom 
was  Eugene,  for  whose  fate  a  fond  and  noble  mother 
was  deeply  anxious,  ho  pressed  on  to  the  capital  of 
a  nation  in  mourning 

"  For  the  unretnrning  br»Te." 

To  him  it  was  an  entrance  strangely  in  contrast  with 
former  advents  upon  the  theatre  of  public  homage. 
Hitherto,  the  flying  courier,  followed  by  the  roar  of 
artillery,  had  proclaimed  to  the  waiting  millions,  the 
annihilation  of  armies  and  the  glory  of  Franco.  Now 
p*  24 


372         ■  LIFE  OF  JOSETHIKB. 

he  left  the  straggling  remnants  of  a  magnificent  host 
among  the  blood-stained  snows  of  a  cheerless  waste, 
and  sadly,  yet  unyieldingly  came  again  to  take  his 
sceptre,  sullied  with  the  touch  of  conspiracy. 

Intelligence  of  all  these  movements  was  conveyed  to 
Josephine  at  Malmaison.  She  still  watched  with  the 
tenderest  solicitude  over  Napoleon's  fate,  and  heard 
with  deep  sadness  of  his  disastrous  Russian  campaign. 
An  ordinary  woman  might  have  had  a  selfish  delight 
in  the  reflection  that  her  own  repudiation  was  the  first 
step  in  his  descending  career ;  but  this  was  far  from 
the  thoughts  of  Josephine,  If  her  life  would  have  con. 
tribiited  to  his  prosperity  or  happiness,  she  was  ready 
for  the  sacrifice.  She  would  gladly  have  hastened  to 
meet  him  on  his  return  to  Paris,  and  bound  up  his 
wounded  spirit,  with  her.  sympathy  and  love.  She 
lieard  indeed  of  the  congratulations  and  addresses  of 
the  public  functionaries  of  Paris  upon  his  return — -and 
that  the  cities  of  Rome,  Florence,  Milan,  Turin,  Ham- 
burgh, Amsterdam,  and  Mayence,  had  sent  him  the  as- 
surance that  his  presence  alone  was  necessary  to  re- 
move the  disquietude  that  existed  in  the  Empire,  but 
she  was  also  aware  that  sources  of  fearful  trouble  to 
the  Emperor,  were  arising  in  the  capital  and  in  various 
parts  of  France.  She  understood  thoroughly  the 
schemes  of  the  Philadelphes,*  and  was  apprised  of  that 
daring  treason,  headed  by  one  of  their  number,  Gen- 
eral Mallet,  which  affected  her  deeply,  for  it  indicated 

•  A  secret  association  in  the  army,  formed  for  the  purpose  of  over- 
throwing  the  Imperial  power. 


LIFE  OF  JOSSPmKB.  S73 

feeling  against  tlie  Emperor,  more  widely  extended 
than  apparent  upon  the  surface  of  society.  In  these 
tidings  her  quick  ear  caught  the  first  moaning  of  the 
tempest  which  would  wreck  his  splendid  fortunes. 

The  campaign  of  Saxony,  upon  which  Napoleon 
now  entered,  completed  his  downfall.  He  commenced 
it  with  high  anticipations  of  success,  and  though  at  the 
outset  a  few  great  victories  attested  his  genius,  he  soon 
began  to  feel  the  mortification  of  repeated  def(^ats. 
His  armies  were  no  longer  the  invincible  host,  which 
had  hitherto  never  failed  him  in  the  hour  of  trial. 

Toward  the  spring  of  1814,  when  the  allies  had  in- 
vaded more  than  one  third  of  France,  and  Napoleon's 
throne  was  trembling  on  the  undulations  of  an  earth- 
quake, whose  march  his  prophetic  vision  discerned* 
but  which  he  could  not  avert ;  he  made  his  last  visit 
to  the  home  of  Josephine.  The  bright  sun  was  sink- 
ing behind  the  purple  hills,  and  Malmaison  was  peace- 
ful as  though  the  plains  and  slopes  of  vine-clad  France 
were  untrodden  by  contending  armies,  and  unreddened 
by  the  blood  of  slaughter,  when,  with  distressful  air, 
the  Emperor  entered  the  retreat  of  her  who  clung  to 
his  side  with  intenser  affection  amid  the  gloom  of  dark 
ening  disaster.  They  wept  together,  and  while  he 
looked  upon  her  sad  and  loving  face  he  said — "  Ah !  I 
have  been  as  fortunate  as  was  ever  man  on  the  face 
of  the  earth ;  but  to-day,  now  when  a  storm  is  gather- 
ing  over  my  head,  I  have  not,  O  Josephine,  in  the  wide 
world,  any  but  you  upon  whom  I  can  repose." 

The  Jacobins  were  disposed  to  offer  their  influence 


374  LTFB  OF  JOSEPHmiC 

to  save  the  "  child  of  destiny,"  but  demanded  in  return, 
entire  control  of  the  press,  and  permission  to  advocate 
freely  the  principles  of  the  revolutionary  period.  His 
words  on  the  subject  are  forceful,  and  indicate  regard 
for  enlightened  freedom  not  wholly  extinguished  by 
absolute  rule,  and  disclose  some  filial  emotion  in  this 
offspring  of  Liberty,  "  to  whom  he  owed  everything, 
though  he  had  disowned  his  mother,  and  was  about  to 
fall."  He  said  indignantly — "  This  is  too  much !  In 
battle  I  shall  have  a  chance  of  deliverance ;  but  I  shall 
have  none  with  these  furious  blockheads.  There  can 
be  nothing  in  common  between  the  demagogic  princi- 
ples of  ninety-three,  and  the  monarchy ;  between  clubs 
of  madmen  and  a  regular  ministry ;  between  revolu- 
tionary tribunals  and  established  laws.  If  my  fall  is 
iecreed,  I  will  not  at  least  bequeath  France  to  the 
revolutionists  from  whom  I  have  delivered  her." 

When  about  leaving  Paris  to  make  the  last  desper- 
ate onset  upon  his  exulting  foe,  he  summoned  the  Na- 
tional Guard  to  the  Tuilleries,  and  while  the  large  and 
brilliant  assembly  were  waiting  in  the  deepest  silence, 
Napoleon  entered  the  hall,  leading  by  the  hand  the  son 
of  his  hopes,  not  yet  three  years  old.  With  a  calm  but 
melancholy  mien,  he  surveyed  the  impressive  scene, 
then  with  his  usual  clear  and  sonorous  voice,  delivered 
a  speech,  from  which  the  following  is  a  quotation  : — 

"  Gentlemen,  and  Officers  of  he  National  Guard !  I 
am  happy  to  see  you  around  me.  This  night  I  set  out 
to  take  the  command  of  the  army.  On  quitting  the 
capital,  I  confidently  leave  behind  me  my  wife,  and  my 


uxs  ov  josEPHnnc.  876 

son,  in  whom  so  many  hopes  are  centered.  Under  ycur 
faithful  guard  I  leave  all  that,  next  to  France,  I  hold 
dear.     To  your  care  they  are  intrusted." 

Bonaparte  threw  himself  into  the  overwhelming  tide 
of  allied  forces,  and  struggled  nobly  to  regain  the  foun- 
dation of  sovereignty,  sliding  so  rapidly  from  beneath 
his  feet.  He  did  not,  however,  forget  Josephine ;  but 
as  often  as  communication  was  possible,  sent  letters 
breathing  the  warmest  affection ;  while  hers  in  return 
were  hailed  with  delight  that  brooked  no  delay  in  pe- 
rusal, even  amid  the  very  tumult  of  battle.  At  length 
the  closing  scenes  in  the  terrible  tragedy,  of  which  a 
hero  and  king  was  the  victim,  interrupted  the  cor- 
respondence. She  could  almost  behold  the  field  of 
strife,  and  hear  the  discordant  roar  of  combat. 

One  day,  while  sitting  in  a  summer-house,  looking 
toward  Paris,  she  saw  a  Sister  of  Charity  near  her  case- 
ment, and  inquired  respecting  her  mission  of  mercy, 
The  nun  told  her  that  the  sisterhood  had  many  wounded 
officers  under  their  care,  and  no  sheets  with  which  to 
bind  the  bleeding  limbs,  and  that  she  was  on  her  way 
to  the  capital  for  a  supply.  The  Empress  immediately 
took  the  purchase  into  her  own  hands,  and  the  saloons 
of  Malmaison  became  alive  with  the  activity  of  fair 
women  preparing  lint  and  bandages  for  the  suffering. 

Josephine  was  tortured  with  8us{)ense,  and  when  she 
heard  that  the  royal  family  were  flying  to  Blois,  before 
the  advancing  invaders,  in  her  excitement  and  despair 
she  determined  to  depart  for  Navarre.  On  her  way 
thither,  discovering  a  detachment  of  troops  in  the  dis- 


876  UFB  OF  JOSEPHIJJB. 

tance,  who  were  French  hussars,  she  mistook  them  for 
the  terrible  Cossacks,  who  had  descended  like  demons 
upon  the  arena  of  universal  war.  Beneath  the  peltings 
of  the  storm,  she  fled  across  the  fields ;  and  when  the 
illusion  was  dispelled,  entering  her  carriage,  she  silently 
pursued  her  journey,  and  awakening  as  from  a  trance 
upon  their  arrival  at  the  palace,  it  is  related,  exclaimed, 
"  Surely,  surely,  Bonaparte  is  ignorant  of  what  is  pass- 
ing within  sight  of  the  gates  of  Paris;  or  if  he  knows, 
how  cruel  the  thoughts  that  must  now  agitate  his  breast ! 
Oh !  if  he  had  listened  to  me !" 

On  the  31st  of  March,  1814,  the  allies  entered  Paris 
During  the  fierce  struggle  beneath  its  walls  upon  the 
preceding  day,  he  was  at  Troyes,  and  with  a  suite  of 
four  officers  travelled  towards  the  metropolis  at  the 
rate  of  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  but  did  not  hear  of  the 
decisive  battle  till  within  a  few  miles  of  the  city.  His 
army  followed,  marching  with  the  unrivalled  rapidity 
of  more  than  fifty  miles  a  day.  Napoleon  tried  to  in- 
flame the  enthusiasm  of  his  generals,  and  strike  once 
more  for  France — but  it  was  too  late ;  the  enemies  of 
the  new  dynasty  and  freedom  had  thrown  their  Bria- 
rean  arms  around  both  and  crushed  them.  On  the  11th 
of  April,  Bonaparte  signed  the  articles  of  unconditional 
abdication  of  his  throne,  expressed  in  these  words : — 

"  The  Allied  Powers  having  proclaimed  that  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  is  the  only  obstacle  to  the  re-es- 
tablishment of  peace  in  Europe  ;  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon, faithful  to  his  oath,  declares  that  he  renounces 
for  himself  and  his  heirs  the  thrones  of  France  and 


LIFZ  OF  iOSKPBIKBt  877 

Italy,  and  that  there  is  no  personal  sacrifice,  even  that 
of  life,  which  he  is  not  ready  to  make  for  the  interests 
of  France." 

Maria  Louisa  without  having  a  parting  interview 
with  the  Emperor  as  she  requested,  departed  for  Ram- 
bouillet  with  her  son,  and  soon  after  for  Austria.  She 
was  attached  to  Napoleon,  but  how  unlike  in  her  resig- 
nation to  his  fate,  the  disinterested  and  magnanimous 
Josephine.  She  in  the  mean  time,  was  reading  with 
swimming  eye  his  last  messages,  or  carrying  them  in 
her  bosom,  near  her  beating  heart. 

Vague  rumors  only  had  broken  the  painful  silence 
of  many  days,  when  the  subjoined  letter  confirmed  her 
apprehensions,  and  revealed  the  changeless  devotion  of 
a  proud  and  fallen  monarch. 

*•  FoNTAINEBLEAU,  April  16,    1814. 

"  Dear  Josephine, — I  wrote  to  you  on  the  8th  of 
this  month  (it  was  a  Friday,)  and  perhaps  you  have 
not  received  my  letter.  Hostilities  still  continued; 
possibly  it  may  have  been  intercepted  :  at  present  the 
communications  must  be  re-established.  I  have  form- 
ed my  resolution ;  I  have  no  doubt  this  billet  will  reach 
you.  I  will  not  repeat  what  I  said  to  you :  then  I  la- 
mented my  situation ;  and  now  I  congratulate  myself 
thereon.  My  head  and  spirit  are  free  from  an  enormous 
weight.  My  fall  is  great,  but  at  least  it  is  useful,  as 
men  say.  In  my  retreat  I  shall  substitute  the  pen  for 
the  sword.  The  history  of  my  reign  will  be  curious  ; 
the  world  has  yet  seen  me  only  in  profile— I  shall  show 


378  LIFB  OP  JOSEPHINE. 

myself  in  full.  How  many  things  have  I  to  disclose ! 
how  many  are  the  men  of  whom  a  false  estimate  is  en- 
tertained !  I  have  heaped  benefits  upon  millions  of 
wretches !  What  have  they  done  in  the  end  for  me  ? 
They  have  all  betrayed  me — yes,  all.  I  except  from 
this  number  the  good  Eugene,  so  worthy  of  you  and  of 
me.  Adieu,  my  dear  Josephine  ;  be  resigned  as  I  am, 
and  ever  remember  him  who  never  forgot,  and  never 
will  forget  you.     Farewell,  Josephine.      Napoleon. 

"  P.  S.  I  expect  to  hear  from  you  at  Elba :  I  am 
not  very  well." 

When  the  paroxysm  of  grief  was  over,  she  spoke 
with  all  the  ardor  of  her  earnest  spirit  of  the  forsaken 
Exile  :  "  I  must  not  remain  here — my  presence  is 
necessary  to  the  Emperor.  That  duty  is  indeed  more 
Maria  Louisa's  than  mine  ;  but  the  Emperor  is  alone 
— forsaken.  Well,  I  at  least  will  not  abandon  him.  I 
might  be  dispensed  with  while  he  was  happy — now,  1 
am  sure  he  expects  me."  Then  turning  with  more 
composure  to  her  chamberlain,  added — "  I  may,  how 
ever,  interfere  with  his  arrangements.  You  will  re- 
main here  with  me  till  intelligence  be  received  from 
the  allied  sovereigns — they  will  respect  her  who  was 
the  wife  of  Napoleon." 

The  allied  sovereigns  did  not  disappoint  her — she 
was  urged  to  keep  her  residence  at  Malmaison,  and 
assured  of  their  friendship  and  protection. 

The  Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia,  was  especially 
attentive  and  kind  to  Josephine,  and  as  the  only  refuge, 
she   accepted   the  generous  proposal,  and   was  soon 


LI7B  OF  JOSEPUIKB.  Z19 

quietly  restored  to  her  favorite  hermitage.  Napoleon 
was  a  prisoner  to  the  Kings  of  Europe,  and  like  a  caged 
eagle,  his  soaring  genius  was  confined  within  the  nar- 
row horizon  of  ocean-bound  Elba,  while  their  vulture 
<^aze  was  still  fixed  anxiously  upon  him.  Josephine's 
heart  was  there  with  the  captive,  as  is  seen  in  her 
letter  addressed  to  him  soon  after  his  arrival  upon  the 
island. 

"  Sire, — Now  only  can  I  calculate  the  whole  extent 
of  the  rtiisfortune  of  having  beheld  my  union  with  you 
dissolved  by  law ;  now  do  I  indee4  lament  being  no 
more  than  your  friend,  who  can  but  mourn  over  a  mis- 
fortune great  as  it  is  unexpected.  It  is  not  the  loss  of 
a  throne  that  I  regret  on  your  account ;  I  know  from 
myself  how  such  a  loss  may  be  endured  ;  but  my  heart 
sinks  at  the  grief  you  must  have  experienced  on  sep- 
arating from  the  old  companions  of  your  glory.  You 
must  have  regretted,  not  only  your  officers,  but  the 
soldiers,  whose  countenances,  even  names,  and  bril- 
liant deeds  in  arms  you  could  recall,  and  all  of  whom 
you  could  not  recompense  ;  for  they  were  too  numer- 
ous. To  leave  heroes  like  them  deprived  of  their 
chief,  who  so  often  shared  in  their  toils,  must  have 
struck  your  soul  with  unutterable  grief;  in  that  sor- 
row especially  do  I  participate. 

"You  will  also  have  to  mourn  over  the  ingratitude 
and  falling  away  of  friends,  on  whom  you  deemed  you 
could  confide.  Ah!  sire,  why  cannot  I  fly  to  you  I 
why  cannot  I  give  you  the  assurance  that  exile  has  no 
terrors  save  for  vul^jar  minds,  and  that,  for  from  dimiu 


S80  UFB  07  JOBEPBHTB. 

ishing  a  sincere  attachment,  misfortune  imparts  to  it 
new  force !  I  have  been  on  the  point  of  quitting  France 
to  follow  your  footsteps,  and  to  consecrate  to  you  the 
remainder  of  an  existence  which  you  so  long  embellish- 
ed. A  single  motive  restrained  me,  and  that  you  may 
divine.  If  I  learn  that,  contrary  to  all  appearance,  1 
am  the  only  one  who  will  fulfil  her  duty,  nothing  shall 
detain  me,  and  I  will  go  to  the  only  place  where  hence- 
forth there  can  be  happiness  for  me,  since  I  shall  be 
able  to  console  you  when  you  are  there  isolated  and 
unfortunate  !  Say.  but  the  word,  and  I  depart.  Adieu, 
sire ;  whatever  I  would  add  would  still  be  too  little ; 
it  is  no  longer  by  words  that  my  sentiments  for  you  are 
to  be  proved,  and  for  actions  your  consent  is  neces- 
saiy.  Josephine. 

"Malmaison  has  been  respected;  I  am  there  sur- 
rounded with  attentions  by  the  foreign  sovereigns,  but 
had  much  rather  not  remain." 

But  the  constitution  of  Josephine  began  to  yield  to 
the  repeated  shocks  it  had  sustained  during  the  event- 
ful years,  whose  departure  laft  her  a  divorced  and 
crownless  queen,  and  the  Emperor  who  deserted  her, 
a  throneless  exile  on  a  solitary  island.  To  increase 
her  solicitude  and  suffering,  promised  pensions  were 
withheld,  and  her  sensitive  nature  put  to  the  torture 
by  distressing  embarrassment.  As  spring  advanced, 
her  system  began  to  develop  disease,  and  by  the  ap- 
plication of  remedies,  obtained  a  partial  and  transient 
restoration.  This  was  in  the  beginning  of  May.  On 
the  tenth,  she  gave  a  dinner  party,  upon  which   oc- 


UFE  OF  /(JsEPHnra.  881 

casion  among  the  distinguished  guests,  was  the  Em- 
peroi  Alexander.  Though  suffering  alternately  the 
thrilling  pain  and  chills  which  shook  her  delicate 
frame,  she  assumed  her  wonted  smile,  and  after  the 
entertainment,  joined  in  games  of  amusement  on  the 
beautiful  esplanade.  Compelled  at  length  to  retire 
from  the  ring,  she  betrayed  her  suffering  only  by  the 
pallor  of  her  countenance,  and  in  reply  to  inquiries,  as- 
sured her  friends  it  was  fatigue,  and  would  be  gone 
with  the  morrow.  But  disease  was  doing  its  work. 
The  successive  days  brought  no  relief,  and  by  the 
25th,  she  was  rapidly  sinking  before  the  ravages  of  a 
malignant  quinsy. 

Physicians  were  constantly  by  her  side  ;  science  and 
love  exhausted  their  resources  to  rescue  the  uncom*,^^ 
plaining  sufferer  from  the  skeleton  hand  of  the  d©-  ''  ~ 
stroyer.  She  was  conscious  of  her  danger,  but  sweet- 
ly avoided  any  intimation  of  it,  or  utterai\pe  of  pain, 
that  might  distress  those  who  were  watching  for*  a  ray 
of  returning  hope.  But  none  shone  on  the  marble 
forehead  of  the  dying  Josephine. 

Eugene  and  Hortense  were  apprised  by  the  physi- 
cians that  death  was  near,  that  they  might  prepare  for 
the  dreaded  event.  They  whispered  with  faltering, 
accents  in  the  ear  of  that  mother,  her  approaching 
doom,  while  they  hung  over  her  couch  with  the  agony 
of  breaking  hearts — like  those  beside  the  grave  of 
hope.  Nor  is  it  strange  tliat  such  grief  was  theirs ;  a 
mother — and  one  who  was  an  angel  of  love  and  guid- 
ance to  their  path,  was  just  entering  the  portal  of  a 


'**■■ 


99i  IXFS  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

bourne,  whence  no  fond  voice  replies  to  the  spirit's 
questioning  or  its  bitter  prayer.  Josephine  soon  after 
received  the  sacrament. 

The  Emperor  Alexander  arriving,  approached  her 
bed-side ;  and  as  the  fading  eye  of  Josephine  recog- 
nized him,  she  rallied  her  departing  strength,  and, 
while  a  new  light  beamed  upon  his  features  and  then 
fell  on  her  kneeling  and  weeping  children, — she  beck- 
oned to  the  silent  group  about  her  to  come  near,  and 
said  with  a  celestial  smile,  and  in  tones  of  death's  gen- 
tlest music : — 

"  At  least  I  shall  die  regretted ;  I  have  always  de- 
sired the  happiness  of  France ;  I  did  all  in  my  power 
to  contribute  to  it ;  and  I  can  say  with  truth  to  all  of 
you  now  present  at  my  last  moments,  that  the  first 
wife  of  Napoleon  never  caused  a  single  tear  to 
flow." 

As  these*words  died  upon  her  lips,  she  passed  into 
a  slumlDer,  unbroken  till  on  the  morning  of  the  29th  of 
May,  she  left  the  shadows  of  time  for  the  realm  of 
immortality. 

The  body  was  embalmed  and  laid  in  a  coffin  of 
sycamore  lined  with  lead,  and  on  the  2d  of  June,  the 
funeral  procession  moved  from  Malmaison  to  the  vil- 
lage of  St.  Ruel.  While  the  remains  lay  in  state, 
twenty  thousand  persons  from  various  parts  of  France, 
came  to  look  on  the  illustrious  sleeper — and  when  the 
concourse  followed  her  to  the  grave,  sovereigns  led 
the  countless  host,  and  two  thousand  poor  formed  the 
last  company  of  mourners,  deeply  lamenting  the  loss 


LIF£  OF  JOSEPHINX.  883 

of  their  benefactor.  An  oration  was  made  on  the  oc- 
casion, by  the  Archbishop  of  Tours,  and  while  prayers 
were  offered  by  the  bishops,  Hortense  was  alone  in 
her  devotions,  having  retired  to  a  chapel,  where  un- 
disturbed, she  might  pour  her  grief  on  the  infinite  bo- 
som of  Him  whose  name  is  Love.  And  when  the 
multitude  had  gone  from  the  sacred  edifice,  how  beau- 
tiful the  spectacle  of  that  dutiful  daughter  kneeling 
with  Eugene  beside  the  tomb  ;  and  both  baptizing  it 
with  their  tears.  Upon  the  simple  monument  of  un- 
adorned marble,  Josephine  is  represented  in  royal 
robes,  in  the  attitude  of  kneeling,  and  on  the  memorial 
of  virtue,  whose  snowy  whiteness  is  no  false  symbol 
of  character,  is  the  brief  and  affecting  inscription, 

"  EUGENB  AND  H0ETKN8E  TO  J08KPHINE." 

In  the  narrative  of  stirring  events,  and  common  in- 
cidents in  the  life  of  Josephine,  the  same  unselfish 
motives  of  action,  untarnished  virtue,  gentleness,  and 
fidelity  are  always  visible.  She  was  endowed  with  a 
fine  intellect,  and  an  attractive,  though  not  beautiful 
person.  But  what  is  most  conspicuous  and  lovely,  is 
her  warm  and  earnest  sympathy  with  the  suffering — 
her  joy  in  doing  good.  And  while  the  name  of  Napo- 
leon is  repeated  with  admiring  wonder  at  the  splendor 
of  his  genius,  and  sadness  because  of  its  perversion,  in 
the  memory  of  all  the  good  to  the  last  hour  of  time 
will  be  embalmed  the  name  of  Josepduib. 

THB  XVD. 


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